Bodyswitch
by Winterblume
Summary: Hermione's in hell and all her nightmares have come true. She's turned into a brainless bimbo and is failing all her classes quite spectacularly. Her teachers have, in fact, already given up on her and just sit back and watch her flunk all her NEWTs. Yes, it's nothing but hell for Hermione. On the upside, things can hardly get any worse. Right?
1. Chapter One: Battle of Hogwarts

**Title:** Bodyswitch

**Disclaimer**: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N: New story ^^ I had this plot in my head for a while and always wrote something, forgot about it and came back later to add things. In any way, this story is already almost complete . It's gonna be around 50,000 words. I have already written 40,000, I guess. So updates should be regular ...unless I have a freak out and think it's shit. Reviews are, of course, very much appreciated :)**

**TO THE STORY: This chapter starts at the end of book seven. Voldemort attacks Hogwarts while Harry, Ron and Hermione frantically try to find Ravenclaw's Diadem and a way to destroy the Horcrux in Hufflepuff's Cup. As far as I remember, in the books, Harry went off alone to find the diadem. In the meantime, Hermione and Ron somehow (off screen) made it to the Chamber of Secrets to destroy the cup.**

**AU STARTS: In my story, while Harry tries to find the diadem, Ron and Hermione split up. Ron runs down to the chamber and Hermione tries to find the last Horcrux, Nagini. And that's where chapter 1 starts:**

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**Chapter One: The Battle of Hogwarts**

Frantically, Hermione ran down the corridor. She couldn't believe this was really happening. This was even worse than Harry's, Ron's and her flight from Gringotts on the back of a dragon. Hermione's breath came fast and with her wand gripped tightly in her hand she dashed through Hogwarts. She _needed_ to find Nagini. The stupid snake could be anywhere. Hermione darted around a corner, almost tripping over the debris on the floor. Hogwarts had really taken a blow this time. With tears in her eyes, Hermione hoped Ron was alright. Her ever busy brain supplied her with the image of her very dead friend, lying in the Chamber of Secrets, with the Cup of Hufflepuff undisturbed in his cold hands. _Damn you, Voldemort_, Hermione cursed in her head. But she needed to remain optimistic. Ron _had_ to be alright. Harry, too. They just had to destroy the last Horcruxes. _Piece of _cake, she thought, ignoring the sarcastic tint in her own mind. That's why they had split up. Ron would destroy the stupid cup, Harry had by now hopefully found Ravenclaw's diadem …and Hermione needed to get to Nagini.

"Come on, Hermione," she urged herself on.

In the distance, she could hear the battle. Fear knotted up her stomach. So many of her friends were out there, fighting for their lives. They were so close to victory. Soon, Voldemort would be mortal again. That small hope had just skimmed Hermione's mind as a curse whirred past her head, missing her by inches.

"Shit!"

She threw herself to the side, simultaneously raising her wand at the Death Eater in front of her. His white mask glowed eerily in the dark, while the rest of his body was disguised by his black cloak. Quickly, Hermione whirled her wand through the air and threw a yellowish curse at him. She was pretty sure it would have hit its target, if she hadn't been distracted by a second Death Eater showing up out of no-where. He attacked and although Hermione managed to raise a shield, his curse violently hurled her against the wall.

"Damn!" she snapped irately, trying to get up again. Wand raised, she turned to the Death Eaters. "Why're you even here? The battle is going on _outside_."

One of the Death Eaters, his white mask partly blackened by soot, shrugged his shoulders. "We're… er… morally supporting them from here?" At Hermione's doubtful look he added loftily, "I'm sure the others will win without us."

The other Death Eater nodded enthusiastically. "No-one's gonna notice we've been gone."

Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered, "Lazy bastards," while she brandished her wand. Her magic coiled around the pieces of broken stone lying around the corridor. Hermione raised her wand and could feel the strain on her magic as the stones were heaved in the air. Another flick of her wand and the stones rushed towards the two Death Eaters. Seeing their oncoming doom, both men wildly brandished their wands. They both managed to raise shields in time, but the shield the guy with the sooty mask had conjured was rather flimsy. Hermione watched as one of her projectiles penetrated the paper-thin shield and crashed into the man's right side. He cried out in pain as bones broke and he was hurled away, wand lost somewhere in the wreckage.

"Avada kedavra!"

Hermione's heart skipped a beat as the green curse rushed towards her. It was a close call but she managed to dive out of the way. The green light harmlessly crashed into the stone floor. With a shaky hand, Hermione brandished her wand and sent an angry curse towards the remaining Death Eater. The guy seemed to have talent, though. With a flick of his wand, he cancelled her attack. Hermione stood up and flicked dust from her shoulder while she glared at the man.

"What now?" he goaded scornfully. "Out of ideas?"

"You wish," Hermione growled under her breath.

Still clasping her wand tightly, she crossed her arms in front of her. Her magic followed her lead and eagerly built up inside of her until it was a raging storm that Hermione could barely reign in. Then she sharply extended her arms to the sides. The movement activated her magic and like a shockwave it swept over the corridor, leaving behind deep cracks in the stone floor.

Hermione watched as her powerful magic furiously crashed into the Death Eater. He was brutally hurled away, almost out of a huge hole in the outer wall, but he managed to hold on. Finally, with a slash of his wand, he managed to part Hermione's attack, so it rushed harmlessly around him. At least she had managed to leave a deep bleeding cut in his wand arm. Hermione grinned.

"Stupid Mudblood," the Death Eater spat at her.

"Oh, so suddenly you know who I am, do you?" Hermione asked mockingly.

The guy raised his wand and hissed, "My Master will reward me when I bring him your head."

Hermione crinkled her nose in disgust, but couldn't comment on that colourful image as the man again attacked and another curse sailed her way. _Bloke certainly is stubborn_. Deftly, Hermione sidestepped the curse. It was almost too easy and she grinned triumphantly at the Death Eater who again waved his wand. Hermione just wanted to start a counter attack as she heard a crunching sound coming from behind her. Her blood froze over. Wand still raised at the Death Eater, she turned her head. To her horror, she spotted another Death Eater in the corridor who had silently crept up on her. His stealth attack revealed, the man abandoned all caution and slashed his wand through the air. Once again, a sickly hissing curse rushed towards Hermione. Through the corners of her eyes she saw that the first Death Eater used exactly the same moment to attack as well. She was trapped between two incoming curses. Frantically, Hermione tried to throw herself out of the way. It was painfully obvious, though, that she would be too slow. At least, one curse would hit.

Hermione felt the magic balefully crackle in the air,

could smell the thick smoke from the burning castle.

Her blood rushed loudly in her ears.

Both curses sizzled lethally as they rushed towards her.

Hermione's last thought was one of hope. She dearly hoped that Harry and Ron would kick Voldemort's ass for this.

Then she blanked out and not even pain could follow her.

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	2. Chapter Two: Meet the Princess

Disclaimer in chapter one

**A/N: Another chapter :) and Tom enters the story. Yay. Of course, I'd love to hear what you think. **

**Thanks to everyone how reviewed the last chapter. **

**TwilightGirl100195, bro, JayMJane, alannalove1990, Reine, EriEka127, MaiWishes, cathy loves heath, Atlantean Diva, YoursAnnie, StillWatersAreDeep, LadyK, Thamaleia, Kirtash R, Patricia pc**

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**Chapter Two: Meet the Princess**

Hermione groaned as consciousness came back to her. Her head hurt as if someone was piercing her skull with a drill. The pain made her want to throw up. Her agony wasn't soothed in the slightest as something hard was thrown at her, bouncing against her back.

"Oh Merlin," Hermione lamented miserably. "What the hell…?

"I'm not saying it again," a rather obnoxious voice penetrated her poor head. "Get up. I have things to do and you're detaining me already."

"Ngh," was Hermione's sophisticated reply.

Slowly, she managed to roll onto her back, her head swirling horribly. Someone near-by – probably the obnoxious speaker from before – huffed in annoyance.

"Get a move on," the deep voice ordered bossily.

Hermione tried to get her nausea under control. _Deep breath in… deep breath out… in… out… _It didn't really help, but at least her brain decided to resume work. Like electrocuted Hermione sat up as the last events flashed through her mind. _The Horcruxes!_ She had to… There were Death Eaters! Where was her wand, goddamnit? Hectically, Hermione groped for her wand, eyes darting around to take in her surroundings, ready to defend or attack. Expecting to find a broken down Hogwarts' corridor and Death Eaters closing in on her, Hermione was a tad confused to find herself lying in a comfortable king sized bed. It might have been an improvement to being in a besieged castle if she hadn't noticed that under the silk covers, she was very much naked. No wand and feeling quite exposed, Hermione pulled the covers protectively around her.

"What…?" she mumbled, voice breaking over the word.

"I'm serious," the voice from before rebuked her cuttingly. "Leave."

Seething hot, Hermione remembered that she wasn't alone. Paralysed by confusion and fear, she shuffled around on the bed, silk blanket wrapped around her, and stared with wide eyes at the other occupant of the room. For a moment it was as if her mind had taken a leave and she stupidly gawked. Not even two steps away from the bed stood a young man, occupied with stuffing rolls of parchment in what appeared to be a school bag. It wasn't the irate frown on his face that pushed Hermione in a state of shock, nor the fact that he wore a Slytherin uniform. No, the main problem was that she knew the guy. Strangely attractive pale skin, tall wiry built and exceedingly handsome features, he looked just like in that old yearbook Hermione had once found in Hogwarts' library. Now, she felt nothing but terror as she stared at none other than Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Closing the bag with a final thud, young Voldemort turned his gaze on her. Hermione jumped in fright as he glared at her darkly. He opened his mouth and there was a lethal threat wrapped around his smooth silky voice,

"Do I have to pull you out of there?"

Hermione stared at him like a cornered deer facing down the barrel of a hunter's shotgun. Helplessly she shook her head, unable to form any words. Riddle narrowed his eyes angrily and snapped,

"Hurry up, then!"

Frantically, Hermione wondered what he wanted from her. Her heart thumbed fearfully in her chest as she shakily scrambled up. Maybe he didn't want to kill her in the bed because he preferred blood spatters on the floor? Or did he plan to drag her into some kind of torture dungeon? Panic clouded her mind as she finally managed to stand up, knees weak. Riddle's menacing glare had followed her process silently. But as Hermione wrapped the silk blanket tighter around her naked body, Riddle took an angry step towards her.

"No," he hissed at her. "You're leaving this here."

Before Hermione could even whimper in protest, Riddle grabbed a corner of the blanket and violently pulled it away from her. Hermione didn't know if she should faint in fear or shame as she now stood completely naked in front of Riddle. Miraculously, she somehow managed to remain conscious and anxiously blinked up at him. She really didn't know what to expect now, but her thoughts ranged from getting a harmless crucio, to being cut open by an insanely cackling Riddle while he bathed in her blood and guts. In the end, she got nothing of that but just another sour look from Voldemort.

"Don't leave any of your stuff here," he commanded acridly.

With that he pointed at the floor. Hermione furrowed her brow at his extremely impolite tone, but thought it better not to say anything. She noticed pieces of clothing strewn around the floor. Maybe it was for the best to just play along? Fear still wrapped tightly around her, Hermione bent and started to pick up the clothes. With shaky fingers, she gathered the pieces of clothing in her hands. She had never seen them before and she certainly would have never bought such scandalous knickers, but she supposed beggars couldn't be choosers. Hastily, Hermione slipped the clothes on, not even saying anything to the Slytherin style uniform robe. Hermione had barely buttoned up her blouse as Riddle snapped in a rather impatient tone,

"Are you still here?"

Not even looking at her, he waved at her in a shooing gesture. Hermione pressed her mouth into a thin line, but didn't say anything to his condescending behaviour. After all, Riddle hadn't killed her and that was definitely a plus. On shaky legs, she stumbled over to the door, expecting to be hit by a curse in her back any second. Nothing happened, though, and Hermione couldn't believe her sheer luck as she left the room and Riddle behind.

Her confusion mounted up to new heights as she shakily staggered into what could only be the Slytherin common room. A few Slytherins lounged on the couches, throwing her inquisitive looks. Hermione stared at them in bewilderment. What business did they have lazing around here? Hadn't they noticed? The castle was under attack! Hermione didn't say anything, maybe they were Voldemort's supporters. After all they _were_ Slytherins. Hastily, she crossed the room and exited.

Hermione bolted away from the Slytherin common room, not wanting to linger any longer than necessary. At least her luck hadn't completely run out. Tugged away in the Slytherin robe, Hermione found a wand. So, battle-ready, she dashed up the stairs and quickly left the dungeons behind, intending to re-join the battle. After all, she still needed to find and kill Nagini.

The only thing she managed as she ran into the Entrance Hall, wand in hand and a wild look in her eyes, though, was to evoke a lot of strange looks from the students calmly strolling around. Flabbergasted, Hermione stood in the middle of the Entrance Hall and her wand sunk uselessly back to her side. There was no destruction, no caved in outer walls, no Death Eaters trying to kill everyone on sight and no Dark Lord threatening to burn them all alive. Instead of that, students walked about, joking and laughing, as if it were any normal school day at Hogwarts.

_This is not right…_ A deep frown appeared on Hermione's forehead. Inconspicuously, she stored the wand away in her robe pocket. Then she left the Entrance Hall and briskly walked deeper into the castle. Wherever she went, though, there were no traces of a battle. Everything was calm. Hermione started to have suspicions as to what had happened to her when she realized that she didn't recognize any of the students. Not even the Gryffindors were familiar to her.

Feeling rather faint, Hermione slipped into a girls' toilet to be alone and compose her rather fragile state of mind. Head swirling with all the implications, Hermione staggered to the sinks and cupped some water into her hands to wet her face. As she looked up into the mirror, abruptly her blood froze over with shock and a strangled groan left her. A complete stranger stared back at Hermione. Falling over her shoulders and cascading down her back, the girl in the mirror had silky jet-black hair that complemented her pale, immaculate skin quite beautifully. Dark, almond-shaped brown eyes with thick long lashes blinked back at Hermione. The stranger's features were delicate – high cheekbones, plump lips – and fit to her petite, slender frame.

Hermione stared at the beautiful mirror image and instantly scrunched up her nose in disgust. This was all kinds of wrong. She cautiously tugged at her straight black hair and felt the strong need to throw up. What the heck had happened?! Hermione grimaced at the mirror image. The girl crinkled her small nose, too, and Hermione felt the sudden urge to punch her in the face. This wasn't her! What had happened to her body?! Utterly disturbed, she clutched the bag she had brought from Riddle's room, and staggered out of the toilet.

"Umph," Hermione grunted as she ran headfirst into someone.

"Watch where you're going!" a voice snapped at her and rough hands pushed her away.

Hermione looked up and was not at all surprised to find Tom Riddle glaring at her accusingly.

"Erm… sorry?" she said in a weak voice.

Automatically, her hand slipped into her robe pocket. She was relieved as her fingers met the smooth wood of a wand. It wasn't _her_ wand, but Hermione was immensely grateful that she had something to defend herself with. An undignified squeal left her as Riddle suddenly grabbed her arm and ungently pulled her with him. An alarming amount of panic almost suffocated Hermione as she was led away to what could only be her execution.

"Come on," Riddle said in a domineering tone. "We're late for lunch."

"Lunch…?" Hermione echoed feebly, not even fighting against his grip.

"Merlin, you're even slower than usual," Riddle sighed in exasperation.

Hermione's thoughts tangled around in her head, creating a knotty mess. Her blood rushed loudly in her ears, pulse quickened by her fear. In trepidation, she watched how the students around her merrily ignored how she was manhandled by the Dark Lord. This was all manners of wrong. She was feeling faint as her brain supplied her with the only explanation to her predicament.

She was dead. Those stupid Death Eaters had managed to kill her and this was hell.

Hermione groaned pitifully, making Riddle eye her in disgust, while she lamented inwardly. Her 11-years-old-self should have just taken that letter from Hogwarts and burned it immediately. Whatever happened to her dream of being an analytical chemist? Stupid owls delivering important documents? That should have been her first hint.

"You are really bothersome today," Riddle didn't hesitate to inform her. Then he frowned at her in suspicion and inquired, "Did you even go to your classes?"

"...er..." was all Hermione could stupidly mumble.

Riddle merely rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Again? How many classes did you skip this week?"

Hermione glanced at the priggish look on his face but didn't comment. If she was in hell, then he was probably Satan himself. Thoughts whirling with panic, Hermione frantically wondered how she might escape him. Abruptly, she stopped walking, forcing Riddle to stop, too. Annoyance crossed his face and Hermione quickly rummaged through the strange school bag. She needed a distraction. Something. _Anything_. Her shaky fingers came upon a few school essays and she grabbed one. _Here we go_, she thought and pulled it out of the bag.

"I need to see a professor about this," Hermione informed Riddle dramatically.

He crinkled his nose. "Why?"

"Because of this…" Hermione checked the grade and almost fainted as she saw a T. _Troll?!_ "…this… er…"

Riddle chuckled irritatingly. Hermione had to admit he was kind of handsome and it already grated on her nerves how he obviously used that to his advantage.

"I doubt Dumbledore can help you improve that essay, darling." Riddle flashed her an extremely charming and fake smile and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "You have to face it, studying just doesn't suit you."

Hermione had to bite her inner cheek hard not to attack him. Desperately concentrating on the facts, she tried to calm down. Dumbledore was somehow around? Her stomach plummeted. The old Headmaster was dead. So did that mean she was dead, too? But why would dear old Dumbledore end up in Hell?

"Don't worry, love," Riddle flirted, charming smile in place. "You have a lot of other talents. Schoolwork is just not one of them."

Hermione could hear the underlying taunt dripping from the words. Did he think she wouldn't notice? The git? Riddle's jibe at her intelligence made Hermione almost burst with sudden anger.

"I'm still going to see Dumbledore," she gritted out through clenched teeth.

She could see Riddle's eyes flash crimson and panicked. Against all odds, he managed to master himself, didn't rip her to shreds and offered lazily,

"I'll accompany you."

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	3. Chapter Three: Dead Man Down

Disclaimer in chapter one

**Thank you guys for your reviewes. Really keeps me going :)**

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**Chapter Three: Dead Man Down**

Through Hogwarts' corridors they wandered to the transfiguration master's office. _Damn you, Death Eaters, for killing me_, Hermione thought furiously while following Riddle who for some inexplicable reason Held. Her. Hand. They arrived at the office and Hermione knocked at the door. Hearing a "Please, come in", she entered the office, ignoring Riddle's hints that he would wait for her. _Freaking stalker! _she cursed while entering the room. Hermione spotted Dumbledore sitting behind his desk. Hot tears prickled in her eyes as she scanned the old wizard. Seeing the man again was wonderful and a large, if a bit wobbly, smile appeared on Hermione's face. Dumbledore looked a little confused by her enthusiasm, but returned the smile anyway.

"Ms Black, how can I help you?" the wizard inquired kindly.

_BLACK?!_ Hermione stared at him, aghast, for a good minute. Dumbledore obviously was not surprised by her slowness and waited politely for her to regain her composure. 'Black' was running around in a loop in Hermione's mind, making her feel faint. She pulled her wand, turned around and hurled every secrecy and silencing spell at the door that she could remember. Riddle should really not hear what she had to discuss. Turning back, Dumbledore raised an impressed eyebrow at her. Without a word Hermione plopped in the seat before his desk.

"We have a problem," she stated, not beating around the bush.

"Yes?" Dumbledore inquired, kindly smiling.

"Er… am I dead?" Hermione looked at Dumbledore desperately.

Worry sparkling in his eyes, Dumbledore asked, "Are you alright, Ms Black?"

Not being able to hold back anymore, Hermione snapped, "No! I'm freaking not alright."

Angrily she wiped a few tears from her eyes, glaring at Dumbledore. The wizard cocked an eyebrow and ignored her outburst. Instead he asked politely,

"Maybe you want to see Madam Hambard?"

"Merlin, no!" Hermione lamented, furiously shaking her head. "I don't need to see _anyone_. I'm _not_ crazy!"

Dumbledore's eyebrow remained raised and he blinked at her. It didn't take long for Hermione to cave in and concede,

"Okay, maybe I am. I don't know."

Folding his hands, Dumbledore leaned forward on his seat and scanned Hermione over his half-moon spectacles.

"What happened, Ms Black?"

Hermione worried her lower lip and admitted, panic lacing her voice, "I don't know."

Dumbledore nodded and supplied sagely, "Just start at the beginning. I find that always helps."

Hermione exhaled, fighting for calm. The wizard was taking this a bit too lightly for her taste.

"Okay," Hermione snubbed acridly, glaring at Dumbledore. "Here I was, minding my own business. Doing the usual stuff, you know. Breaking into banks, flying around the country on the backs of dragons, helping the Chosen One, fighting against freaking Death Eaters." Dumbledore raised a curious eyebrow, but Hermione didn't stop and continued, "They attacked Hogwarts. Well, frankly, it was to be expected. What with the war going on."

"I'm afraid you don't make much sense," Dumbledore commented, still annoyingly calm.

"No. Obviously not," Hermione conceded. But then continued her story like he hadn't interrupted her. "Well, I was innocently going about my business when two of those wankers assaulted me over at the old Charms classroom. I would have defeated them," she said proudly. ", but some other Death Eater just cursed me from behind my back, the damn coward."

Furrowing his brow, Dumbledore said, "I should probably bring you to the Hospital Wing."

"I seriously hope there's a potion to cure this madness," Hermione deadpanned. "So, after that other bloke hit me with a curse in the back, I blacked out. Actually, I thought I was going to die back then… maybe I did."

Hermione paused and scratched her head, not knowing how to explain what happened next because she didn't really understand it herself. Peering at Dumbledore, she saw he eyed her like he would an insane and possibly dangerous person. Hermione sighed and just went on heatedly,

"Next thing I remember is me waking up in that room. All in Slytherin green, mind you. And then Tom _freaking_ Riddle is there. I almost cursed him on the spot."

Dumbledore didn't interrupt her again, so Hermione assumed that having urges to curse Riddle wasn't something unknown to him.

"Well, I didn't curse him," she continued. ", but thought to just play along. Surely that curse that hit me did something to my brain. That's what I thought before I looked into a mirror."

Hermione stared at Dumbledore desperation in her eyes. "I mean look at me!" She gestured at her face. "That's not right at all."

Dumbledore still eyed her like she was a crazy person. "Let me assure you, Ms Black, you look perfectly fine."

Hermione couldn't hold in the snort as she heard it, "Merlin's _balls_! My name is NOT Black!"

"And what is your name, my dear?" Dumbledore inquired cautiously as if talking to a crazy person.

Hermione breathed out impatiently. She really was glad to see Dumbledore alive, but the bloke wasn't exactly helpful at the moment. Forcing a smile on her face, she offered him her hand.

"Granger," Hermione clarified. "Hermione Granger."

The old wizard shook her hand. "Albus Dumbledore."

Hermione couldn't help but giggle at the insanity of it all. "I know." She leaned back in her chair and said, "You can be honest with me. Am I in hell?"

"I assure you, you are very much alive," Dumbledore informed her kindly.

"Then what is going on?" Hermione shook her head, panic welling up. "Why is _Tom Riddle_ here? He went to Hogwarts… when? Fricking _decades_ ago. In the forties?"

A look of genuine surprise crossed Dumbledore's face and he said hesitantly, "Ms Granger, we have the year of 1943."

Hermione simply blanched at that, her throat tying up.

"Not what you expected?" he asked kindly.

"No," Hermione croaked, running a shaky hand through her hair. "That is… I guess… but that is… 54 year in the past… "

Dumbledore still eyed her, concern having now replaced the surprise. Hermione glanced at him and, seeing his face, accused,

"You don't believe me."

"It is quite some story, Ms Black… excuse me, Ms Granger."

Hermione sighed tiredly, "Okay, let me impress you with my incredibly inexplicable knowledge I could have only gained in the future." By now there was a dry tint in her voice. "1943, you say? Grindelwald is still at large, eh?" Dumbledore nodded. "I can predict quite accurately that you'll defeat him next year. To be precise at the 27th of Decembre 1944."

Dumbledore merely raised his eyebrows.

"You probably wonder why I tell you. It could be changing the future after all," Hermione continued seriously, no sass in her voice anymore. "But I don't think you knowing will change all that much. Between you and me, we both know that you could defeat Grindelwald any time now. You just don't want to at the moment. Although he is the owner of the Elder Wand," Here Dumbledore took in a sharp breath of air. ", you are still a tiny little bit more powerful than he is."

"How do you know about the wand?" Dumbledore inquired and now there was a suspicious undertone in his voice that sharpened it.

"I am from the future." Hermione smiled bitterly. "I know a lot about you. After all I've read Rita Skeeter. I'm sorry to bring this up, but I really need you to believe me." She paused shortly, then continued gently "I know about your brother Aberforth, working in the Hog's head. I know about your sister, too." A pained expression erupted on Dumbledore's face. "I know how she died. I also know about your father and what he did to those Muggles. And if the whole story about Ariana is true, then I would say those Muggle boys didn't deserve any better."

After this Dumbledore stared at her for a long time, face unreadable. Hermione nervously fiddled with the sleeve or her robe, watching him hopefully.

Finally, Dumbledore asked, "Can I assume you are not working for Gellert? He is the only other person who would know all the things you told me, aside from my brother. And I know Aberforth would never tell anyone."

"Well," said Hermione, grinning slightly. "I'm Muggleborn myself, so I would rather rot in hell than help that lunatic."

She was glad to see an amused twinkle dancing in his eyes. "You are Muggleborn?"

"And proud of it." Hermione's smile widened.

"And you say you are from 1997?"

Hermione nodded. The smile died on her face as her predicament hit her again and panic bubbled up. "Professor, I don't know what to do. This is the wrong body. And I don't know how to get back. It's all wrong… and… and... Tom Riddle?! What am I supposed to do?" Tears welled up in her eyes. "I'm scared… I want to go home. I don't belong here. My friends need me in the future. And… and _Tom Riddle_?! He'll kill me. I'm sure he will. I don't wanna die here."

Hermione raised her hand and wiped the tears away that rolled down her cheeks.

"Calm down, Hermione," Dumbledore soothed. "No-one is going to harm you."

Hermione laughed hysterically. "You don't understand. It's _Tom Marvolo Riddle_! And he's waiting for me right outside this room."

"Can I assume you know him then in the future?" Dumbledore asked gingerly.

"Oh yes. Yes, we've crossed paths, you could say." Hermione replied, fighting against sobs. "I don't want him anywhere near me."

Dumbledore offered her a handkerchief. Hermione took it, blowing her nose loudly.

"This could be problematic," Dumbledore told her cautiously. "You are Tom Riddle's girlfriend at the moment."

Shock completely paralysing her system, Hermione stared and shook her head in denial.

"No."

"I'm afraid you are."

Dumbledore patted her arm, sympathy swimming in his clear blue eyes. Or maybe it were condolences, Hermione wasn't sure.

"Oh sweet Circe," she mumbled under her breath. "_Merlin_ help me! I'll die. That's it. I'll die. Just like that. I never imagined it to be like this. What can-"

"Please, calm down, Hermione," Dumbledore again tried to soothe her. "I'm sure Tom's not going to just kill his girlfriend all of a sudden."

Hermione drowned him in a disbelieving look. "Myrtle rings a bell?"

"So, it really was him?" Dumbledore stated sadly. After Hermione nodded, he tried to console her with, "Well, she hasn't been his girlfriend."

"Professor, he'll find out I'm not … er… what's my current name?"

"Rosalie Black," he provided. "You are a seventh year and in Slytherin house."

"No, really?" Hermione sniped sarcastically. "A Black in Slytherin? What _has_ this world come to?"

Dumbledore chuckled lightly, "Naturally. You have a brother here at Hogwarts. Cygnus Black, is a sixth year and also in Slytherin. As far as I know Rosalie Black is rather happy in her house. She's very popular and has a lot of friends."

"Ha, as if Slytherins have friends. They only have acquaintances."

"I guess you were not in Slytherin back in your time?"

"No. Gryffindor." Hermione hesitated shortly before asking, "Sir? Judging by her taste in men, I might not like Rosalie Black at all, but do you think… I… She's not dead because of me, is she?"

Dumbledore scanned her for a moment. Then he said, carefully choosing his words, "To tell you the truth, Hermione. I do not know. I have never heard about any spell capable to cause people to switch their bodies and simultaneously send them back in time."

_It __is__ rather farfetched, isn't it?_

Hermione bit her lower lip. Dumbledore just smiled at her, reassuring, "Don't worry, my dear. I will look into this. Maybe I will be able to find an explanation."

Hermione raised her face at him. "And hopefully a way to reverse it? You see, I'm needed in my time. And I don't wanna stay here with Vo- Riddle."

Dumbledore nodded. "I will do my best. Do you have any idea what spell it was that hit you in the back?"

Hermione sadly shook her head. "I guess it was Dark Magic, though."

"I see," Dumbledore replied. Then he promised, "I will investigate this, Hermione. In the meantime, I suggest you stay here at Hogwarts and try to blend in as best as you can."

"As Rosalie Black?" Hermione said tonelessly.

"Yes." Dumbledore nodded.

"I don't know anything about her. How can I pull that off?"

"I will ask Professor Slughorn to give me Ms Black's dossier," Dumbledore told her. "Aside from that, I'm afraid, it all depends on your acting ability."

Hermione groaned. "And her boyfriend is Tom Riddle?" she asked, desperate lilt in her voice.

"Yes."

"Man, I really can't pull this off," Hermione lamented. Her eyes flashed at Dumbledore. "They are not… you know… in a _serious_ relationship."

Dumbledore raised an inquisitive eyebrow, making Hermione groan again. She wasn't very keen on discussing this with Dumbledore.

"Okay. Let me be blunt." She sat up straighter in her chair and exclaimed unsmilingly, "If that git tries to _touch_ me, I am going to cut off his manhood and feed it to the Threstrals. Bless the poor beasts."

With that she got up from her seat, not wanting to hear any comment from Dumbledore to that statement. She bent to grab her – or rather Rosalie's – bag. Before she turned to leave the office, she said insecurely,

"And you will tell me when you find anything. Yes?"

Dumbledore inclined his head. "Of course, Hermione. I might even ask you to visit me again so we can discuss this some more."

"Everything you need," Hermione hurriedly promised. "I want to leave here as fast as possible."

With that Hermione took her leave. As she stepped out of Dumbledore's office and found Tom Riddle casually leaned against the corridor wall, she wanted to turn on the spot and run away. Suppressing her flight instinct, Hermione took a step towards the Dark Lord. Tom Riddle's eyes were a freakish shade of blue, Hermione noticed as they calmly wandered over her form. The intensity of his gaze made her squirm. He pushed away from the wall and stepped over to her.

_I can't do this. I can't do this_, was all that echoed through Hermione's head as Tom Riddle gracefully stalked over to her, stopping right in front of her. He was at least a head taller than her and towered over her while his mesmerising eyes continued to study her.

_Calm down, Hermione_, she frantically tried to tell herself. _He's only a boy. Nothing to worry about. Only a boy… who is going to murder you should he ever find out who you are._ _Damn!_

"What took you so long?" Riddle asked, his soft voice like dark velvet.

Hermione stared up at him with huge eyes. She couldn't believe she had to _talk_ with Lord Voldemort here.

"Erm… That is… I…" She squirmed until she remembered her white lie, "Well, we went over my essay and Dumbledore said I was allowed to write it again."

Riddle arched an elegant eyebrow. "Really?"

Hermione saw the beginnings of a smirk on his face as he inquired casually, "What was that essay about again?"

Hermione blushed slightly. Well, she had no idea what the stupid essay was about.

"I kinda… er…" Hermione wished she could just hex the smirk off his arrogant face. "Forgot?"

Riddle chuckled melodiously as he heard her reply. Hermione was relieved, though, that he didn't seem suspicious.

"Oh, Rosalie," he purred indulgently at her. "Didn't I tell you this would be a waste of your and, more importantly, _my_ time?"

Riddle's statement was accompanied by what was probably supposed to be a charming smile. To Hermione it was nothing but condescending. _Well, I didn't ask you to accompany me here, you prick,_ Hermione huffed in her head. Riddle, not able to hear her mental rant, took her hand in his and started to lead her down the corridor. Hermione stiffened in fear as he touched her and just followed him. As they walked Riddle turned his head and let his eyes wander over her form.

"You didn't forget we want to go to Hogsmeade today?" he asked abruptly.

Actually whenever he used 'we' it more sounded like an 'I'. Hermione hid her angry scowl and said innocently,

"No?"

There was a disapproving frown on Riddle's face and he ordered her in quite the commanding voice, "Well, then you will have to change your clothes."

His cold eyes once again wandered over her, admittedly crinkly, Hogwarts uniform. Hermione for one didn't feel responsible. After all, she inhabited this body since only a few hours. And she had quite the suspicion that it was Riddle's fault her clothes had been strewn around his room.

"Honestly you look like a scarecrow, Rosalie," Riddle said icily. He bent down to her and placed a horribly cold kiss on her cheek. "You don't want to embarrass me, do you?"

Indignation gnawed at Hermione. It physically hurt. She so wanted to just kick him. The accusing look he threw her way was quite aggravating. It made Hermione realize that Rosalie Black wasn't really Riddle's girlfriend. Well, she _had_ been confused about it. Tom Heartless Riddle, having a girlfriend? No, impossible. Now Hermione realized that Rosalie Black was nothing more than a plaything. And Riddle - Hermione mused as she glanced up at the fastidious sneer on his face - was quite the nasty boyfriend, wasn't he?

_Oh noes. Lord Voldemort is a shitty boyfriend? Whoever would have known?_

Once again Hermione swallowed down another sassy reply and instead breathed duteously, "No, of course not, Tom."

"Good then." He decided imperiously, "We meet in half an hour in the common room. Don't make me wait."

Without further ado, he just turned around and left her standing in the corridor. _What a conceited peacock,_ Hermione thought furiously. He behaved as if he was doing her a favour by spending time with her. Seriously, he didn't have to lower himself on her behalf. Still, Hermione checked her watch. She didn't want to blow her cover this early in and Rosalie Black seemed to be quite the push-over. Hermione raised her eyebrows as she scanned the delicate and very expensive looking silver watch on her wrist. The Black's weren't exactly candidates for the poor house, were they?

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	4. Chapter Four: Undercover Nerd

Disclaimer in chapter one

**A/N: New chapter. I hope you like where the plot is going ^^ I also have to apologize on Tom's behalf for this chapter, but he's kind of an asshole. It always comes as a surprise. Even as I write it down ;P**

**Thank you all for reviewing on the story!**

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**Chapter Four: Undercover Nerd**

So, it turned out Rosalie Black seemed to be something like the most popular girl in Slytherin. At least, that was Hermione's conclusion after she had stepped into the Slytherin common room. By now, most of the students were here and they seemed to be fighting to gain Hermione's precious attention. It was rather embarrassing, really. Hermione felt incredibly self-conscious under all the attention and wanted to escape. Getting the cold shoulder, though, only seemed to spur the Slytherins on.

"H- hello." a Slytherin boy with short curly hair and pimply skin had dared to walk up to her.

"Yeah… hi," Hermione replied hesitantly.

The guy sat down beside her on the sofa, nervous smile on his face. Hermione felt uncomfortable. She didn't even know the bloke's name. What was she supposed to _do_ here? She frowned at him, wondering what to say. Obviously being used to getting frowned at, the guy simply smiled at her. Then he dove for his bag and pulled out a rolled up parchment.

"Here." He offered her the parchment, giggling sheepishly. "It's all done. Promise."

"Er… that is… nice?"

Hermione took the parchment, her fingers accidentally brushing against his. Promptly, the guy again broke down into giggles and blushed, making his pimples stand out even more. With adoration shining in his eyes, he looked at Hermione, nodding at the parchment. Hermione didn't see a way out so she unrolled it. One glance at the parchment told her it was a Herbology essay, seemingly about the Common Plangentine.

"Oookay…" Hermione said helplessly. "Why are you giving me this?"

"You said you needed that for Beery next week, didn't you?" the Slytherin boy supplied timidly. "You'll get at least an Acceptable for it. Promise."

A sharp frown appeared between Hermione's eyebrows as she stared down at the essay. What was this? Cheating? What exactly did Rosalie Black think she was doing? Letting others write her essays… _A scandal_. Misinterpreting the angry scowl on Hermione's face, the Slytherin desperately assured,

"It's probably better than an A. I think it's gonna be an E." He slid a bit closer to her and looked at her with pleading eyes. "Y- you said you'd let me sit with you during Herbology if I wrote this. P-please…"

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose as she heard that. This was horrible. Rosalie Black was a _horrible_ person. No surprise there, she supposed. After all, she was Voldemort's girlfriend. Hermione felt annoyed and frankly a bit dirty, too. Angrily, she stuffed the offending essay into her bag and stood up.

"R- Rosalie…?" the boy looked up at her imploringly. "Please. Just n- next class. I won't bother you. Promise."

Feeling rather uncomfortable, Hermione pressed out a, "Whatever."

The resulting smile on the boy's face made guilt bubble up in her. Again blushing fiercely he sputtered,

"O- okay. Thank you. I… Thank you!"

Hermione decided she had had enough. Not replying anything, she fled to the dorms. As she stepped into the seventh year dorm, she had to resist the urge to rub her eyes in wonder. That was one huge room for only… one, two, three …four beds. There were no four-posters, like back in the Gryffindor dorms. Instead, four queen sized beds stood proudly in the room, dark silk blankets covering them. Then there were huge mahogany wardrobes, delicate looking small tables and fine nappa couches spread decadently around the room.

_Looks like a horde of snobs ran through, decorating wildly_, Hermione scoffed as she narrowed her eyes at the Slytherin dorm. She helplessly eyed the beds and wondered which one was Rosalie's. Her musings were cut short by a voice.

"There you are."

Hermione looked over to the sitting area on the other side of the room. She only now spotted the two girls sitting, or rather lounging, there.

"Um… yeah." Hermione scratched her head in embarrassment.

Surreptitiously, she scanned the girls. It was save to say they were both beautiful. One had long glossy blond hair that was curled into a complicated pattern of locks. Her face looked like one of those porcelain dolls, skin perfect, lips plump, eyelashes long and eyes bright blue. Yep, she was beautiful alright. Subconsciously, Hermione reached for her own bushy hear. Only when she touched Rosalie's black hair did she remember that Hermione Granger's body was somewhere else …probably lying face down with a huge gaping hole in her back.

_Damn!_

The other girl had short brown hair. Her skin was tanned a bit, giving her a healthy and attractive look. She seemed to be a bit smaller than the blonde one, but sitting down Hermione couldn't really contrast to the blonde-haired ice queen, she at least smiled widely at Hermione, making her look a bit more approachable.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Come over here," said the brunette amicably.

Slowly, Hermione made her way over to those two beauty queens, feeling rather self-conscious.

"So, where have you been, Rosalie?" the blonde one asked lazily after Hermione had sat down beside her. "_All_ night… You have been with Riddle, haven't you? How was it? Come on, spill."

"Oh, Sarah," the brunette chided half-heartedly, trying to hide a smirk. "You can't ask a lady things like that."

After that debacle in the common room, Hermione started to wonder if Rosalie was really such a lady. She squinted suspiciously at… Rosalie's _friends_? At least she had a name now. The blonde ice queen was Sarah. Hermione noticed that both girls still stared at her, obviously expecting an answer.

"Yeah…" she said hesitantly, inwardly shuddering at the memory of waking up naked in a room alone with Voldemort. "It was alright… I guess?"

Hermione wasn't quite sure what reaction she expected after that rather unenthusiastic summary of her day… or night with Voldemort. A giggly breakdown? Or maybe exclamations of scandalized tempers. Hermione got neither. The petite brunette only shook her head, looking as if she had just been bereft of some juicy story telling. The blonde, Sarah, only shrugged with a decidedly unimpressed look on her face and ran a hand through her silky hair.

"How long have you been with Riddle now?" Sarah inquired indifferently. "Three months? That's a long time anyway. Maybe-"

"I think it's been over a year," the brunette piped in.

Hermione sincerely hoped they wouldn't ask her, because she had no idea and frankly didn't want to know for how long her current body had been rolling in the hay with Riddle. Luckily for her, Sarah seemed to love her own voice and completely ignored any interjections,

"What I _meant_ to say: maybe it just fizzled out, Rosalie. If a relationship doesn't work anymore, you can't force anything."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, seeing an opportunity approach. If her supposed friends already thought her relationship with Riddle was on the rocks, maybe she could just break the whole thing off without it being suspicious.

"Oh no," the brunette whined. "Rosalie and Tom are the perfect couple. You can't break up."

Sarah threw her friend a look that would have frozen over a polar bear. "Betty, stop your meddling. This is entirely Rosalie's decision."

Hermione sighed. This was tedious. On the up side, though, she had learned a few new names. Sarah and Betty seemed to be Rosalie Black's friends. Hermione wasn't sure how comfortable she felt with that, but at least it was something. The two other girls were still discussing Hermione's alleged relationship with one Lord Voldemort as the door to the dorm creaked open. In stepped another Slytherin girl. Without looking at anyone, the girl hushed over to one of the beds, almost ducking behind it. Hermione frowned at that suspicious entrance.

"Gamp," Sarah sneered in quite the haughty voice at the newcomer. "Don't you have your _lute_ lesson now?"

Betty giggled spitefully at the word 'lute'. The other girl – Gamp – ducked even deeper behind her bed, mumbling something shakily in reply. Hermione blinked at her in confusion.

"What's that?" Betty said, fake concern painfully obvious in her voice. "I didn't hear you."

"Got cancelled," Gamp mumbled meekly.

"Oh, I wonder why that is," Sarah sighed, biting sarcasm in her tone. "Why would _anyone_ want to cancel the precious lute lessons?"

Betty smirked maliciously and Gamp twitched in reply, or it was a shrug, Hermione couldn't tell. The girl sat on her bed but held her head bent, so her dark hair obscured her face as if she were too afraid to look up and face her room mates. Hermione couldn't tell why she was target of the sharp disdain of the other two Slytherins. She looked like any normal girl and playing the lute was hardly the worst pastime Hermione could imagine. Quidditch was a lot worse if anyone asked her.

_…or splitting one's soul and cramming the pieces into Horcruxes_. That unwelcome thought brought Hermione back to the problem at hand. Abruptly, she stood up from the couch. Gamp flinched at the movement which Hermione tried to ignore.

"What are you up to?" Sarah inquired curiously, the scathing tinge having left her voice.

"Hm?" Hermione turned to the blonde. "Oh… er… _Tom_ and I wanted to go to Hogsmeade."

"Oh-ho, going out with Riddle?" Betty commented suggestively. Then she glanced at Sarah. "See, those two belong together."

Sarah threw the other a piercing look. Then she smiled at Hermione and said, her sweet voice painfully fake, "I'm sure you two will have fun."

"Uh-huh," Hermione hummed, just to say anything at all.

Then she slipped away from the two girls. Luckily, she had spied the Black crest on one of the bed covers. Well, it seemed it finally paid off that she had spent a whole summer helping to clear out Sirius' old home at Grimmauld Place. The Black crest had been on everything. Hermione stopped herself from rolling her eyes and wandered over to Rosalie's bed. The Gamp girl again flinched nervously and once again, Hermione ignored that ominous reaction. Riddle's warning to 'not embarrass' him with her looks spooked through her head. She would have ignored that as well, but she needed to keep her cover. For now, she would play along.

Now in a sour mood, Hermione opened Roslie's wardrobe and was greeted with an abundance of silk, lace and tulle. It was cramped with skirts, dresses on coathooks, blouses and witch's robes in every colour imaginable. Hermione narrowed her eyes at the many clothes. For Christ's sake, they wore school uniforms most of the time. Hermione shook her head and reached for the first dress that fell into her hands. Dimly, she noticed how Sarah and Betty had gone back to making fun of the fourth girl in their dorm. Hermione would have said something, but Rosalie probably wouldn't. So, she simply disappeared into the bathroom to change.

It didn't take her long to get ready and Hermione left the dorm, feeling stupid. The yellow dress made her feel uncomfortable and she didn't know where to put her wand. Awkwardly, she pushed it into the too small bag. All storage problems were forgotten, though, as she arrived in the common room and spotted her 'date'. Riddle lounged in one of the armchairs, fingers tapping impatiently against the arm rest. Hermione shuddered. Maybe she should just ask Dumbledore if she could live in his office until they could send her back. She could sleep on the floor. No problem.

"You're late," Riddle's frosty voice informed her as he got up from his chair.

Hermione looked up at him and heroically battled the need to curse him. It seemed she would be doing a lot of that in the near future.

"I'm sorry," Hermione pressed out.

Riddle didn't comment but frowned down at her, prompting Hermione to raise her eyebrows. After a long moment, he finally asked,

"Did you gain weight?"

He raised his hands and laid them on her waist. Hermione was too outraged to push him away.

"Yes, I think you really did," Riddle said callously while rubbing his hands over her. "You need to watch out." His blue eyes locked with hers and he added nastily, "I don't like fat asses."

Hermione stared at him, scandalized by what he had just thrown at her. For God's sake, Rosalie Black was a mere 5'4 and probably weighed less than 100 pounds. Hermione looked up at Riddle's arrogant face and found nothing but disapproval there. Vengeful magic raged inside of her like a tornado and she had difficulties controlling it. Her left eye was twitching slightly as she stared at Riddle and she wondered if anyone had ever exploded from supressed magic. Disturbing pictures of what curses she could use on Riddle and their effects drifted through her mind.

"It's gross," the horrible wizard pointed cruelly out. "Maybe you should try to lose a little of your fat."

_Maybe you should take your advice and stuff it up your arse!_ Hermione screamed at him irately in her head. Outwardly, she managed to keep her cool. It took her a lot to swallow down her pride as she whispered in a strained voice,

"You are right, Tom. I'm sorry."

_Good God, one of these days I'm sure to burst from all the accumulated anger_, Hermione thought as she looked up at Riddle's conceited face. She was glad that she never had any form of romantic illusions about this date, because from there on it only went downhill.

A good two hours later found Hermione sitting in the Hog's Head Inn, surrounded by Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Even if she tried, she couldn't imagine how a date could possibly go any worse than this. Hot anger burned her insides as she stared at Riddle. A cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, Voldemort sat beside Hermione with an arm lazily draped around her waist while he talked with his henchmen. It was disgusting. His touch was as disgusting as the smoke in the air, his horrible friends around them and the so-called Butterbeer in the dirty glasses. The worst, though, was the odd girl hanging from the side of some of the Death Eaters. The girls were obviously not a part of this meeting and Hermione strongly suspected that looking pretty was the only task they had to fulfil. Hermione couldn't complain, though, because apparently she was one of them. Judging by the envious looks she received, being Riddle's girlfriend turned her into their queen. Bored out of her mind, Hermione peered at the door to the toilets. Maybe she should try to squeeze herself out of the toilet window and finally taste sweet freedom.

"-his back. And it turned out giving someone with a heavily bleeding wound Blood-Replenishing Potion is a bad idea," one of the Death Eaters – Mulciber, Hermione had learned – said, laughing loudly.

The others joined in, snorting with laughter. Even Riddle's lips twitched a bit, eyes sparkling with sadistic pleasure as he probably imagined litres of blood and dying puppies. Hermione felt sick and just wanted to punch someone. Before she completely lost it, she lightly tugged at Riddle's sleeve.

"Tom," she whispered softly. "I just remembered, I have to go. Hope you don't mind."

Predictably, Riddle's blue eyes glared down at her. And he inquired cuttingly, "What could possibly be more important than this?"

_Virtually anything else_, Hermione replied in her mind. Out loud, she said, "I have to go to the library."

That only made Riddle smirk nastily down at her. Even some of this friends snickered softly as they heard her.

"What would _you_ do in the library?" Riddle asked patronizingly.

_Oh shit,_ Hermione realized too late. That old excuse didn't work anymore now that she had turned into a Slytherin ditz. Too bad. Harry and Ron had fallen for that every single time.

"Now stop joking around," Riddle ordered condescendingly and placed a light kiss on Hermione's cheek. "Here, drink some more."

With that he slid a glass of Firewhiskey in front of her. Then he again completely ignored her and continued his conversation with his Death Eater sidekicks. Hermione shuddered in disgust as she still felt the ghost of his lips on her skin. Not seeing any other way out, she resigned herself to her fate and leaned back in her seat, still with Riddle's arm around her waist. Then she reached for the glass of Firewhiskey and downed it in one go.

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	5. Chapter Five: The Sleep of Reason

Disclaimer in chapter one

**A/N: okay, here's the next chapter. It's a tad longer, because I didn't want to end it at any other place. anyway, enjoy Hermione's very first class as Rosalie Black ;P**

**huge thank you to all you reviewers! It is wonderful food for the muse ^^ **

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**Chapter Five: The Sleep of Reason**

_Ah, Hogwarts' corridors_, Hermione thought fondly as she walked to her first class this morning. Charms, her timetable told her and Hermione felt elated. She had missed walking the school's old corridors that seemed to exude knowledge. Smile in place, Hermione closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. It was this unique Hogwarts smell of old books and magic in the air that made Hermione's senses swirl merrily. Her bag was stuffed with textbooks, quills and parchment waiting to be filled and she was more than ready to attend her class. After almost a year of living in a tent with Harry and Ron, Hermione would have been thrilled to attend Divination if it came to it.

Blissful smile in place, Hermione reached her designated classroom. She would have danced into it if she hadn't been concerned about her cover. So, Hermione calmly entered the Charms classroom, playing it cool. It seemed to be a Gryffindor-Slytherin class. Hermione was a bit put off balance as she saw the Gryffindor students throwing her nasty glares. But then she remembered that she was a Slytherin, so she couldn't really blame them. Eyes sweeping over the classroom to find an empty seat, Hermione spotted Betty, her roommate, sitting in the last row and waving at her to come over. A deep frown appeared between Hermione's eyebrows. The _last_ row? Why would anybody want to sit there when there were obviously seats free in the first row? As Hermione stood motionlessly in the door, Betty's waving got more and more enthusiastic and the Gryffindors' glares darker and darker.

Very reluctantly, Hermione trotted all the way to the back of the classroom. She would need binoculars to be able to see the blackboard from here. Mumbling angrily under her breath, Hermione plopped down in the seat beside Betty. The girl smiled annoyingly and chirped,

"What took you so long?"

Hermione was spared from answering as the professor entered the room. Quickly the chatter died down and the teacher jumped right into the lecture. Hermione frowned and eyed the Professor. Grey hair, almost skeletally thin, the woman wildly gesticulated at a diagram she had put on the blackboard. Hermione wondered what her name was, but couldn't very well ask. After years of classes, Rosalie Black should probably know the Charms Professor's name. Whatever the professor's name was, Hermione couldn't concentrate on her class anyway. Obviously, Betty had confused Charms with Divination and was happily chatting away. Nervously, Hermione threw another glance at the professor. She either didn't see Betty's inattention or she didn't care, because she simply continued on with her lesson.

"-and then uncle Morag managed to get sued," Betty whispered excitedly into Hermione's ear. "Sexual harassment. Let me tell you, it was a scandal. He was dragged before court and pleaded temporary insanity …apparently, he had been drunk at the time and couldn't remember a thing."

Hermione gritted her teeth, anger swelling inside of her. The professor had explained something, but she hadn't heard any of that because of Betty's inane chatter.

"Turned out that was the wrong move," Betty continued merrily. "You see, that night, uncle Morag had disapparated as the Aurors appeared. So, drunk-apparating." She giggled. "In the end, he lost his license and still had to go to prison for six months _and_ pay the guy he harassed 500 Galleons. Merlin, you should have seen my grandmother. She would have killed him if he hadn't been in prison. That was really-"

Hermione tried to tune out Betty's intrusive voice. Her hands in her lap balled into angry fists. Her whole body trembled slightly as she had to physically restrain herself from rebuking Betty. _Chatting during class?!_

"Now kindly practise the charm in pairs," the professor suddenly said.

Hermione blinked at the teacher, feeling horribly lost. What charm did they practise? She hadn't heard a thing of the lecture. In trepidation, Hermione watched the other students starting to brandish their wands. Well, at least she didn't have to endure Betty's chatter anymore, because they now had to concentrate on their wandwork.

"-and it wasn't even the alcohol," To Hermione's horror Betty just continued her story. Now not even trying to keep her voice down. "She was just furious that he got caught. Not very good for the family name."

Hermione irately narrowed her eyes at Betty. The girl had pulled her wand, but just uselessly waved it through the air to emphasize her words. She didn't even try the charm.

"Should we not… maybe…" Hermione pressed out tightly. "Practise the charm?"

Betty raised a delicately plucked eyebrow at her. "Why? Is the old hag looking our way?" Surreptitiously, she peered at the professor. "No. No, it's fine. She's over there with Robins. We're safe." She turned back to Hermione. "Now, where was I? Ah, yes, of course. So, after uncle Morag left for prison-"

Hermione stared at Betty in pure outrage. Was this a usual occurrence? Sitting in the last row, chitchatting during class, not following a professor's instruction… Who exactly _was_ Rosalie Black?!

"Settle down, settle down." It was half an hour later that the professor called their attention, "I hope you all had enough time to practise. I saw some of you making wonderful process."

The other students smiled proudly and Hermione felt like crying. The professor continued,

"Now, who wants to show us how to perform the charm?" Her eyes wandered over the class and, to Hermione's horror, came to rest on her. "Ah, yes, Ms Black how about you?"

This was a nightmare. It was as if the whole classroom had turned into a Boggart. Hermione felt terrible as the attention of the class shifted to her. She still had no idea what charm they had learned today. Helplessly, she peered at Betty, but the girl just shrugged.

"Ms Black?" the professor prompted.

Merlin, this couldn't get any worse. Hermione could hear scornful snickers coming from the Gryffindor side of the classroom. Blushing fiercely, she mumbled stupidly,

"Oh… erm… I'm sorry, professor. I… er… forgot my wand."

The snickers got louder and the professor frowned reproachfully at Hermione. If only the ground would swallow her up. This was the most horrible class Hermione had ever attended …even worse than Hagrid's classes and the Blast-Ended Skrewts.

"Ms Black, I am really disappointed in you," the professor said sternly. "After your last essay, you really need to put a lot more effort into this class. Five points from Slytherin."

Hermione ducked her head, face red with shame. "Yes, professor. I'm sorry."

The professor threw her another glare, before she continued with her lesson. Hermione still stared down at her table, feeling utterly humiliated.

"Good one," Betty laughed into her ear. "Forgot your wand. A classic."

Now hot fury joined the humiliation and formed a tight ball in Hermione's stomach. Irately, she glowered at Betty. The other girl remained to be ignorant and idly doodled on her parchment, again not paying any attention to class. Hermione continued to seethe in her own anger and misery until, fifteen minutes later, the still un-named professor concluded the lesson. Quickly, the ex-Gryffindor stuffed her textbook into her bag, shameful blush still on her face. This was not at all fun. Stupid Rosalie. Stupid time travel. Great. They had managed to do the impossible: Taking the fun out of school. With a big scowl on her face, Hermione marched to the door, leaving Betty behind. She just passed a group of Gryffindors as she heard one of them whisper,

"What a bimbo."

Anger flaring up in her, Hermione whirled around to them and snapped, "_What_ did you just say?"

All four Gryffindors spitefully grinned at her. The girl who had spoken, gave Hermione a once over, and supplied venomously,

"When you spend more money on hair products than on school books, then you know that you're a first class bimbo."

The other Gryffindors jeered at her friend's jab. Temper flaring dangerously, Hermione took a threatening step towards them and pulled her wand.

"Watch what you're saying!"

It didn't seem to impress the Gryffindors at all. They didn't even react to Hermione's wand as if not expecting an attack at all. In fact, one of them even gestured at her wand with a mock pitiful look.

"Be careful," he told Hermione. "You're just gonna hurt yourself."

In return, Hermione raised her wand and hissed, "I'll show you who's going to end up hurt."

The Gryffindor bloke only snorted, still not pulling his wand, while one of the girls mocked Hermione,

"Don't strain yourself, Black. We all know you got thrown out of DADA."

Hermione had had enough. This was childish. She threw all of them a withering glare for good measure, then she turned and stomped away. Their ridiculing laughter followed her, but Hermione just ignored it. _They're mocking Rosalie Black. Not me_, she tried to calm herself. It didn't really work. She was still angry and slightly hurt as she arrived in the Great Hall for lunch.

The rest of her classes were hardly any better. At the end of the day, Hermione was close to tears. She stumbled through the castle in a state of shock. The whole day, she had been either scolded or drowned in disappointement by the professors and mocked by the Gryffindors. The worst thing, though, was that the other houses treated her like some kind of celebrity. Rosalie Black failed every class and yet they admired her. What had this world come to? During lunch today a lanky fifth year boy from Ravenclaw, apparently the president of the Gobstones Club, had come over to Hermione and asked her sheepishly on a date, looking at her with shiny hopeful eyes. Hermione had felt on equal parts relieved and dirty to be able to decline with the excuse that she already had a boyfriend, namely Tom Riddle.

Now, she just felt sick of it all and wanted to curl up in some dark corner and die. Clutching her school bag like a safety blanket, Hermione staggered back to the Slytherin common room. As she entered the common room, her day suddenly became that much worse. Tom Riddle lounged on one of the black sofas, surrounded by his henchmen. Upon her entrance, he looked up, his icy blue eyes slowly raking over her body. It made Hermione shiver and not in a good way. To her horror, Riddle waved her over. She shortly debated to try acting as if she hadn't seen him, but rejected that plan quickly as the other Slytherins sitting around Riddle also noticed her. So, it was with much reluctance that Hermione obediently walked over to Riddle.

"Rosalie," Riddle greeted her in a rather disinterested tone.

Then he pulled her down on the couch and tugged her against his side. Hermione's skin itched uncomfortably where she made contact with Riddle's warm body. With difficulty she stopped herself from shoving the pushy Slytherin away from her person.

"What have you been up to?" one of the other Slytherins asked her, grin in place.

Hermione furrowed her brow, trying to remember his name. She thought he was a Malfoy – _maybe Abraxas?_ – but she wasn't sure. At the very least he didn't look anything like Lucius with his black hair and brown eyes, though the conceited air around him was rather familiar.

"Care of Magical Creatures," Hermione informed him curtly, not wanting to think about her classes anymore.

The condescending smirk on Malfoy's – probably Abraxas' – face got even more pronounced and he inquired delicately,

"Oh? I thought you dropped that? It's not really required."

Hermione opened her mouth to snap at him that scraping by with the bare minimum of classes was not an acceptable approach for the NEWTs, when Riddle butted in. There was a scornful smirk curling his lips as he said, turned to Malfoy,

"Rosalie already dropped History of Magic, Astronomy and Divination. So she had to keep either DADA or Care of Magical Creatures. I told her to keep Care of Magical Creatures. It's by far easier."

Riddle's explanation made Malfoy nod in understanding and Hermione almost explode with bottled-up anger. In the next second, though, crippling horror washed over her. Rosalie had dropped History of Magic, Astronomy _and_ DADA?! _I- is that even possible?_ The thought alone made Hermione feel physically ill. She almost leaned into the body beside her, seeking solace, but then remembered it was Riddle and recoiled in disgust.

Mulciber, sitting beside Abraxas, grinned at Hermione and suggested, "You know, if you want to, I could tutor you."

If her supposed boyfriend hadn't sat right beside her, Hermione would have sworn the Slytherin had sent her a seductive wink. Abraxas, condescending sneer still in place, drawled,

"Don't you think Tom already tried that? After all he _is_ top of our year."

A rather ill-disguised smirk crossing Riddle's face and Hermione's temper peaked as she saw it. The bloke was practically asking to be punched in the face, wasn't he? She inhaled deeply and released a long breath of air, trying to find her equanimity. Riddle, oblivious to her upcoming rage, placed a kiss on her cheek.

"Rosalie just has a different learning rate," he said soothingly, although the devilish glint in his eyes belied his sincerity.

Abraxas simpered irritatingly, "Indeed? It's a shame the professors can't cater to her special needs, then."

Hermione almost choked on her seething hot anger. With tremendous effort, she kept the fury from showing on her face as she stared at the Slytherins. Malfoy smirked at her provokingly, smug look on his face, and Hermione balled her hands into fists. She counted to ten, trying to reign in her angry magic.

Luckily, Riddle then changed the topic of their conversation and all of them proceeded to ignore the Slytherin slash Ex-Gryffindor girl hanging from his side. She might as well have been a sack of potatoes for all the attention they paid her. Hermione wondered if she should try slipping away, but was abruptly ripped from her thoughts when a sneaky hand skimmed over her side, aiming for the hem of her blouse. Her whole body tensed up and carefully, keeping the disgust from showing on her face, Hermione turned her head and peered up at Riddle. Although, he was definitely feeling her up, the Slytherin didn't pay Hermione much more attention. Lazy smirk in place, he talked with his Death Eater friends while he groped her. Fury boiled up in Hermione, but she was yet again unable to act on it and felt disgusted with herself as she felt Riddle's hand slip under her blouse, softly caressing the bare skin underneath.

It was some time later that Riddle had enough with this Death Eater chitchat. Without asking, he pulled Hermione rudely with him as he left the common room for the dorms. Hermione felt uncomfortable with the situation as Riddle pushed her into his own dorm. Being alone with Lord Voldemort probably was not the best of ideas. Worrying her lower lip, Hermione hesitantly walked into the room. It was more or less the same as the girls' dorm. The last time she had been in here Hermione had woken up completely naked in the wrong time period with Lord Voldemort looming over her. The sheer memory made Hermione scrunch up her face in disgust.

"You look stressed," Riddle's deep voice said.

Hermione startled, having successfully forgotten about his presence, and whirled around to him. The Slytherin lounged on his bed and studied Hermione with a suspicious glint in his eyes.

"I'm fine," Hermione lied unconvincingly.

A smirk curved Riddle's lips and he replied, "Maybe you just need a bit _exercise_ to work off your stress."

Hermione furrowed her brow at him, not liking where this conversation was headed. Riddle just continued to scan her hungrily. Eyes shamelessly raking over her body, the Slytherin reached for his robe pocket and pulled a pack of smokes. Hermione watched in growing outrage as Riddle lit himself a cigarette. Contently, he puffed smoke into the air while Hermione's lips narrowed into a thin angry line. Did the git notice that they were in the dungeons, hence no windows? Also, did he ever hear about such a thing as passive smoking? Hermione certainly did not appreciate getting lung cancer, thankyouverymuch.

Riddle, unaware of Hermione's wrath, purred in an alarmingly seductive tone of voice, "It's rather hot, isn't it? How about you get rid of that warm robe of yours."

Instantly, Hermione wrapped her uniform robe tighter around her body and stared at Riddle with wide eyes. _What a creep_. It was now that the kink in her mission 'Undercover Slytherin' hit her full force right in the face. Going underground as Rosalie Black had sounded like the best course of action at the time, but now that she was alone with Riddle and that hungry look on his face it didn't anymore. Her heart fluttering quite distractingly, Hermione stumbled a step away from the Slytherin. Seeing her retreat, Riddle narrowed his eyes at her and asked testily,

"What's _wrong_ with you today?"

"Nothing's wrong," Hermione replied shakily, her voice a bit too high. "Why would you say that?"

Riddle stared at her with his ridiculously blue eyes, making chills dart up and down Hermione's spine. Then slowly a smirk twisted the corners of his mouth and he said, his voice velvety smooth,

"Well, we're alone… undisturbed… and yet," He threw her a _look_ which was more of a leer actually. ", I'm here and you're over there _all alone_. That's really not your usual style. Why don't you join me and we have a bit of fun?"

Now the smirk on Riddle's face had grown positively indecent and he patted the space beside him on the bed invitingly. With wide eyes, Hermione stared at him and his shady behaviour.

"Yeeeaah…" she drew out, grasping at straws. "We could do that… or we, you know, _talk_. We haven't talked in a while have we?"

Riddle gazed at her for a moment as if frozen in time, mildly disturbed by her suggestion. Then a sharp frown appeared between his eyebrows and for the first time Hermione wondered who had been idiotic enough to put anti-apparition wards on the castle. A quick exit would have been appreciated at this precise moment.

"Okay then," Riddle surprisingly conceded, though the devilish glint in his eyes said otherwise. "What do you want to talk about?"

Having a chat with Voldemort? Hermione could think of a few questions she might want to have answered. _How'd it feel splitting your soul?_ _Do you regret killing your own father? Why didn't you put a piece of your soul in a seashell and threw it into the Atlantic Ocean?_ Hermione couldn't ask any of that, and also didn't want to give him ideas, so she went with a more harmless,

"How was your day?"

Riddle laughed softly at her and, even though he was quite annoying at the moment, Hermione had to admit he also looked incredibly handsome in his sleek uniform and eyes flashing with a dangerous light.

"Oh, you know. The usual," Riddle drawled, eyes never leaving her. "Classes were kind of boring. I think I should have dropped Ancient Runes. Frankly, it's a waste of my time."

Hermione smiled at him, feigning approval, while inwardly she ground her teeth in righteous fury. Ancient Runes was one of the most interesting classes Hogwarts offered. _How dare he?!_

"Is that so?" Hermione barely managed to keep the upcoming rage from her tone.

Riddle merely looked at her and Hermione shuddered as his heated gaze ran up and down her body as if undressing her in his mind.

"What… er… what else happened?" she stammered, hating herself as she blushed fiercely.

The stupid Slytherin threw her a smug smirk, stubbed his cigarette carelessly in an ashtray and offered, "Being Head Boy, I had to oversee the prefects meeting." He eyed Hermione condescendingly. "You're lucky you don't have any responsibilities, Rosalie. Believe me, it can get quite taxing."

Hermione balled her hands into tight fists and tried not to roll her eyes at Riddle. She'd been a prefect herself. During the last prefects meeting Hermione attended, the Head Boy, Malcolm Preece at the time, had been snoozing in a corner, happily drooling on himself. A very _responsible_ position, indeed. Once again, Hermione did not let her sarcasm out, but instead forced a reverent look on her face and nodded.

Gracefully, Riddle got up and stalked over to her. Hermione's whole body tensed as he suddenly was so close. Attractive smile playing around his lips, he looked down at her and ran a gentle hand over her arm. And, _Merlin_, that should be creepy as hell, but Hermione could only feel an excited flutter in her stomach at the contact.

"Tell me," Riddle whispered silkily in her ear. "How was your day, love?"

Hermione stared into his startlingly blue eyes, feeling mesmerised. She didn't even mind that Riddle's hand had left her arm and his fingers now danced over her side, leaving pleasant shivers in their wake.

"My day…?" Hermione croaked.

Riddle was being horribly distracting as she wondered frantically what to tell him. Her day had been utterly horrible due to the fact Rosalie was an awful student and Hermione had to put up with that kind of a reputation.

"I did… er…"

Hermione couldn't really finish her sentence as Riddle now carded his fingers gingerly through her hair. His other arm sneakily curled around her waist and he abruptly pulled her against him. Hermione's breath hitched as she leaned against his chest, feeling his hands wandering over her body. It made her shiver for all the wrong reasons. The room seemed to grow almost unbearably hot as Hermione felt two fingers under her chin and Riddle tilted her face up, so she had to look at him. His otherwise so cold eyes were burning with lust as they bored into her demandingly. Hermione, hypnotized by his gaze, could not look away. It was then that Riddle stooped down to her, obviously with the intention to kiss her.

"Eep," Hermione squealed and bent away from him.

Voldemort, seemingly not one to be easily discouraged, put both hands on Hermione's waist and decisively pushed her down on the bed. Hermione frowned. She hadn't even noticed how he had maneuvered them towards his bed. Joining her on the bed, Riddle pulled her tightly against him while he again allowed his hands to wander. One of them found its way to the back of Hermione's neck and held her in place while the other freely roamed her body. Riddle was so close, Hermione was distracted by how nice he smelled and she was tempted to just lean into him. Voldemort used her temporary distraction and, like a vulture, again swooped down on her. This time Hermione only managed to slightly turn her head, so instead of on her lips Riddle placed a soft kiss on her cheek. It was insulting to her how there were suddenly pleasurable shudders running up and down her body, pooling in the pit of her stomach. A soft traitorous moan left her as Riddle placed more kisses along the line of her jaw.

Meanwhile, his hands continued they exploration. Hermione could feel his fingers gingerly massaging the back of her neck, while his other hand slid down her belly, eagerly searching for the waistband of her skirt. His warm touch was electrifying and there was something greedily building up in Hermione's stomach. Riddle's soft lips continued to place demanding kisses down her neck, nipping at her skin now and then. In the heat of the moment, Hermione even caught herself as she raised a hand, intending to run it through his silky black hair. Clearly, this was getting out of hand. Before she could do something she would definitely regret later, Hermione raised both hands and forcefully pushed Riddle away.

"Eep," this time Riddle squealed in protest.

Hermione ignored him and frantically jumped up from the bed. In her panic, she hastened to the next door, trying to escape. It was only as she slammed the door shut behind her that she realized she had accidentally run into the bathroom and not the exit from the dorm.

_Damn it!_

Her eyes wildly darted around the room. No window, no other escape route. This was a dead-end. Hermione cursed under her breath, but quickly locked the door.

"Rosalie? What the fuck are you doing?" Riddle's slightly annoyed voice came from the other side of the door.

_Shit, shit shit!_ What _was_ she going to do now? Hermione anxiously wrung her hands. She jumped in fright as Riddle turned the doorknob.

"Open the door!" he snapped at her, now there was definitely anger in his voice.

Oh Merlin, she needed to get out of here. Panic rushing through her, Hermione frantically ripped at her hair. It was as tears started to spring to her eyes and she almost choked on a sob that she was hit by an idea. Quickly putting that plan into action, she began to noisily shuffle around the bathroom and ran the taps for a moment. Then she added theatrical coughs and loud choking sounds, that couldn't be overheard even from the other side of the door. To top it all off, Hermione flushed the toilet and, grinning to herself, rubbed at her eyes, so they looked bleary and puffy. Grabbing the empty waste basket, she finally opened the door. Riddle stood right in front of her, angry frown on his handsome face.

"What are you doing?" he irately thundered at her.

"Oh, Tom," Hermione groaned miserably. "I don't feel so well."

As if to emphasize that statement, she pitifully clutched the waste basket against her chest and shakily looked up at him. Riddle's blue gaze scanned her suspiciously and Hermione dramatically assured,

"I'm sure it's nothing." She bravely smiled at him. "Let's just continue. I'm good to g-"

Quickly, she stuck her head into the waste basket and faked a few gagging noises. As she was finished she glanced at Riddle, who by now eyed her with unveiled disgust.

"No... No, false alarm," Hermione told him shakily. "I'm probably fine."

Clutching the waste basket in one arm, she reached for Riddle with the other and pursed her lips, making kissing sounds.

"C'mere," she said flirtingly and ended the sentence with a strategically placed cough.

Hermione wouldn't have been able to blurt out 'hypochondriac', so fast was she thrown from Riddle's dorm.

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	6. Chapter Six: This is a Mess

Disclaimer in chapter one

**A/N: Okay, here's a new chapter :) as always I would love to hear what you think about it. And I thank everyone who reviewed last chapter. It really is the best thing to hear what you guys have to say to my fic. So THANKS A LOT ^^**

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**Chapter Six: This is a Mess**

Hermione woke up in the Slytherin dorm and instantly decided this day was going to be horrible. Grouchily, she peeled herself out of her bed and stood up, green dressing gown wrapped around her body.

"Morning," Betty chirped while braiding her hair.

Hermione merely grunted at her, not wanting to talk at all. The other girl seemed to be used to such behaviour and happily ignored Hermione's mood. She morosely dragged herself to the bathroom. As she entered, Hermione spotted Gamp standing in front of the mirror. Hermione blinked at her with blurry eyes and stepped over to the sink. Gamp jumped as she noticed Hermione.

"Oh," the girl stammered nervously. "I- I'm finished. Sorry. J- just go ahead."

"No," Hermione mumbled. "It's…"

Gamp hastily gathered her things, throwing apologetic looks Hermione's way and as fast as she could cleared the bathroom.

"…fine," Hermione told the now empty bathroom.

Now she felt guilty for having chased Gamp away with her obvious fear of Rosalie. Hermione sighed deeply. As it turned out, the day didn't want to get any better. The classes Hermione attended on her second day in the past were as horrible as on her first. None of the professor's expected anything from her. Obviously, merely attending some classes was in and of itself an achievement. The professors had seemingly given up on Rosalie. It was so frustrating that Hermione had to constantly keep reminding herself of Dumbledore's plan to 'blend in' as Rosalie Black.

_Don't slip up. Don't slip up_, ran in a loop through her head as Hermione sat in her classes. During her last class of the day, Arithmancy, she was finally close to tears. Valiantly Hermione fought against the need to answer any questions or to diligently copy everything down the professor said. The Arithmancy teacher, professor Arterbury, was a tall, thin woman in her late forties and somehow reminded Hermione of McGonagall. Maybe it was the stern glint in the woman's eyes or her strict teaching method.

Hermione supposed she would have liked the woman if that look of disappointment hadn't flittered over Arterbury's face whenever her gaze came to rest on Hermione. It made the last rest of Hermione's pride die in a shrivelled up mess. Sadly, it really didn't come as a surprise as, after she concluded her lesson, Arterbury ordered,

"Ms Black, please, stay behind."

Hermione nodded numbly. "Yes, professor."

Some of the Gryffindors snickered and jeered tauntingly and Hermione started to resent the fact that she shared so many classes with them. Shamefully, she ducked her head and waited until they all left the classroom. Then she stood and listlessly shuffled over to professor Arterbury's desk. The woman looked at her, stern expression on her thin face.

"Ms Black," the teacher started cuttingly. "I am sure you remember our last talk."

"Yes, professor," Hermione lied meekly.

Of course, she couldn't remember a thing. Her cover story and the decidedly unamused look of Arterbury silenced her, though. The teacher shook her head and continued poignantly,

"Then you also remember how I warned you that you will fail this class if you do not put more effort into it."

The professor frowned at her in disappointment, seemingly thinking Rosalie was a lost cause, and Hermione died a little more inside. As she remained silent, Arterbury continued,

"To be honest, I cannot see any improvement in your performance during my class, Ms Black."

Hermione breathed in deeply, fighting against an upcoming bout of desperation. This was Rosalie Black's problem not hers. Still, she was barely able to stand the frustration on the professor's face.

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered, eyes cast down.

"There is no need to apologize to me," Arterbury stated tersely. "These are _your_ grades we're talking about."

Hermione hesitantly peered at the woman. Arterbury stared at her piercingly, accusation still plain on her face. Hermione swallowed thickly.

"You have to wake up," the professor admonished. "You're in your seventh year, Ms Black. How do you expect to pass your NEWTs if you continue like this?"

Hermione worried her lower lip and whispered in a wobbly voice, "I- I don't know."

Arterbury sighed disappointedly. "I spoke with your other teachers. They all paint an equally dark picture."

Her gaze bored into Hermione and the Ex-Gryffindor just wished the ground would swallow her up. A deep blush colouring her face, Hermione felt mortified. She wished she could only open her mouth and deny everything. She wasn't a bad student. _Never!_

"How many classes do you take?" Arterbury inquired sharply.

Dimly, Hermione was glad that Dumbledore had managed to give her the promised dossier on Rosalie. Now, she at least could answer the question.

"F- five," Hermione whispered meekly.

Arterbury shook her head, the pity in her eyes almost burning Hermione.

"Really, Ms Black," she sighed sadly. "I just don't know what to do with you anymore. You know we discussed this in a staff meeting. Aside from Herbology where Beery ranges you as an 'Acceptable', you get a failing grade in all other classes."

Hermione stared at the professor. She felt as if someone had doused her in a bucket of ice water. Her air was momentarily cut off and Hermione feared to choke on the spot.

"Tell me, Ms Black," Arterbury demanded to know, strict tinge in her voice. "What do you expect to achieve with only one NEWT?"

The disappointment and slight pity was probably the worst. Hermione shuffled uncomfortably under the professor's hard gaze, hot tears shooting to her eyes.

"I d- don't know," Hermione breathed shakily.

"We've spoken about this before… so many times," Arterbury sighed. "I don't know what else to do. I know your Head of House also spoke with you." She paused and studied Hermione in discontent. "What else do we have to do to get through to you?"

Hermione bit her lower lip hard to stop it from trembling. The only thing she could do was shrug her shoulders meekly.

"You're running out of time," the professor informed flatly. "NEWTs are coming up. If you don't start to study now, it's going to be too late."

Hermione let her head hang, shame burning through her like fire. The disappointment in Arterbury's voice cut into Hermione as she said,

"Very well, Ms Black. I really hope you start taking your education serious before it really is too late." At Hermione's silence, the professor again sighed. "You're free to go."

Hermione bobbed her head and breathed timidly, "Yes, professor."

She didn't want to look up and meet the teacher's reproachful gaze. Holding her school bag in a death grip, Hermione felt the classroom as fast as she could. Her heart fluttered in her chest and she felt sick as she stumbled down a corridor. Shakily, Hermione walked towards the Slytherin common room. The only thing she wanted to do now was curl up in her bed and die.

"Hey, Black," a mocking voice stopped Hermione.

She turned and almost groaned as she spotted a group of Gryffindors. Some of the faces were familiar, probably also seventh years.

"What?!" Hermione snapped in annoyance.

A blonde girl stepped a bit forward, scornful grin on her face. She was part of the Quidditch team, judging by the uniform she wore and the Beater's club in her hand.

"I heard Dumbledore wants to grade you down. What's it gonna be? Third years or second years?"

The other Gryffindors guffawed in laughter, casting Hermione snide looks. Hermione's magic twitched irately. She didn't know what bothered her more, the blatant scorn or her silent fear that the Gryffindor girl might be right. Instead of saying anything, Hermione just replied with a rude hand gesture. It didn't do anything to stop the mocking laughter, so she just turned around and walked away from the Gryffindors. Professor Arterbury's disappointment and the Gryffindors' scorn still swirled through Hermione's poor head as she stumbled into the Slytherin common room. She wanted nothing more than just be alone in her misery. Unfortunately, Lady Luck was not on her side this day.

Hermione blinked stupidly, taking in the situation. The common room was suspiciously empty aside from a group of people standing near the fireplace. Hermione groaned softly as she recognized them. Malfoy, Mulciber, the muscular guy whose name Hermione thought was Rosier and, of course, Tom Riddle himself. A malicious smirk distorted Riddle's handsome face as he gazed down at another figure. The boy knelt on the floor, forcibly held down by Mulciber and Rosier, and Hermione could see that he trembled as he fearfully glanced up at Riddle.

Upon her entry, the Slytherins looked at her. Riddle even inclined his head in greeting, never dropping that frightening smirk. Then he refocused his attention on the boy. Hermione didn't know his name but had seen him among other fifth years. His short brown hair was dishevelled and a look of terror twisted his features. Tears glinted in his eyes as he pleadingly looked up at Riddle.

"I s- swear I didn't know," the boy sobbed. "_Please_. I- I would have nev-"

"Shut up," Malfoy hissed threateningly.

Panic swam in the boy's eyes as he looked up at the older Slytherin. Voice thick with tears, he whispered,

"I- I didn't know. I didn't know." He turned to Riddle beseechingly. "Y- you have to stop them. _Please_."

Hermione still stood stock-still, observing the display with disgust mounting up in her. Riddle, of course, was not at all disturbed by the boy's desperate pleas.

"I'm sorry, Corner. Slytherins don't like blood traitors very much," he said, fake pity wrapped around his voice. "There's nothing I can do."

It was a lie. Hermione knew that and the cold gleam in Riddle's eyes said so as well. He was the one orchestrating the whole thing. The boy, Corner, sobbed at Riddle's cruel words. Riddle's minions, on the other hand, grinned nastily. In growing trepidation, Hermione watched Mulciber holding Corner in place while Rosier grabbed his hand. Cruelly, Rosier forced the hand towards the crackling fire in the fireplace. Corner yelped in fear and pain while Riddle watched the whole thing with sadistic amusement lurking in his blue eyes.

Hermione was ripped from her stupor as Corner's hand was threateningly closer to the flames, the heat already reddening the skin. Automatically, she pulled her wand. Hermione was halfway to the wand movements of a very powerful spell as her cover story of 'Rosalie' shot through her mind. Riddle mustn't know about her true identity. Time would spin out of control if he ever learned the truth. Hermione worried her lip, wincing at Corner's cries of pain. Determinedly, she shook her head. This was just wrong. She wouldn't allow this. Angry glint in her eyes, Hermione raised her wand and whirled it through the air, opting for another spell.

_Spiritus Mus_, she yelled the incantation in her mind.

No visible spell left her wand, but there could be heard a series of soft pops in the common room. Out of thin air everywhere around Hermione, little tan field mice sprang into existence. Disturbed by their sudden appearance, the mice squeaked loudly and scurried about, trying to find a place to hide. The number of mice grew exponentially as more and more of them materialised from a seemingly infinite supply of rodents.

Not long and they resembled a furry wave more than individual mice. Hermione could feel their small little bodies pressing themselves around her feet and watched contently as her mouse army poured towards the Slytherins by the fireplace. A fat grin appeared on her face as she saw Rosier and Mulciber recoil in disgust. Luckily, they released the poor fifth year. Corner used the commotion, squirmed away and dashed towards the dorms and safety.

"Yeeeeep!" Malfoy shrieked loudly and jumped up and down as the mice ran between his feet.

Rosier even climbed on a chair to evade the tidal wave of mice. Happily, Hermione watched the Slytherins waving their arms hectically. Only Riddle didn't seem to have lost his cool. Although there was a dark look on his face and a dangerous glint in his eyes, Hermione couldn't help but giggle as she scanned him. She had no idea how, but one of the mice had managed to climb up his body. With its tiny claws it clung to Riddle's green and silver tie and dangled from it. It was in a bizarre way almost adorable.

Still glaring at her murderously, Riddle snapped his wand angrily through the air. Instantly, the mice vanished into thin air. Hermione was a bit sad to see them go. Riddle seemed to be of a different opinion. Irately, he hissed at her,

"Rosalie! _What_ are you doing?"

"Er…" Hermione innocently blinked at him, searching for a way out. "Erm… Whoopsie doodle. That was a tad over-enthusiastic. Sorry, my mistake."

Furiously, Riddle stamped over to her. Hermione shuffled uncomfortable as he towered over her, murderous look on his face. Nervously, she fiddled with her wand, trying to avoid his smouldering eyes. Then she cleared her throat and proclaimed guilelessly,

"I _really_ don't know what happened." She frowned at her wand and shook it, before she told Riddle, "Must be the wand. Really rebellious sometimes…"

Riddle simply drowned her in a lethal glare. Then he raised his wand at Hermione and suddenly fear rushed through her.

"I swear, Rosalie," Riddle snarled at her menacingly. "You're going to-"

"Er… sorry…" Hermione breathed, panic creeping up on her. "Gotta go. Let's talk later."

With that she just turned around and ran away from Riddle, racing from the common room. Maybe her flight was a bit cowardly, but she really didn't care.

~.~.~

Somehow her feet had led her to Dumbledore's office. As Hermione didn't think returning to the Slytherin common room would be wise for a few hours, she decided to pay her transfiguration teacher a visit. Still feeling a bit jittery from her encounter with Riddle. Hermione cautiously knocked at the door. Dumbledore greeted her with a smile from behind his large desk as she entered.

"Ms Granger," he said and Hermione teared up a bit at hearing her real name. "It is nice to see you."

"Hello, professor," Hermione mumbled.

"Have a seat, please." Dumbledore gestured at the chair in front of his desk.

Gratefully Hermione plopped down, eyes shortly skimming over the paper work strewn around Dumbledore's desk. It seemed the professor had been immersed in marking their latest transfiguration essays. Hermione groaned pitifully. At Dumbledore's cocked eyebrow, she said faintly,

"I'm sorry about my essay. I thought I'd best stick to Rosalie's standard of work as not to attract any attention."

A feeling of being filthy crawled over Hermione as she eyed the essays in trepidation. She felt horribly embarrassed by having been forced to emulate Rosalie's more than questionable research and writing skills.

"Not to worry," Dumbledore soothed in his kind voice.

Hermione grimaced at him and supplied, "I think it's best you don't read it and just put a T on it."

Amusement flickered over the professor's face. "That bad?"

Hermione sighed deeply and sagged against the backrest of her chair. "Worse."

A smile wrinkled up Dumbledore's face even more as he inquired, "I am sure you are not here to discuss your quite admirable ability to blend in. How can I help you?"

Feeling a bit better hearing the compliment, Hermione glanced at the professor. She couldn't quite hide the desperate lilt to her voice as she asked,

"Did you find any leads of how I can return home?"

Dumbledore continued to gaze at her with his piercing eyes, not at all surprised by her question.

"I have some ideas and theories, but no substantial strategy yet on how to reverse the magic that has pulled you into the past," the professor told her calmly. "Time travel is a very convoluted topic and your case is quite unique. The magicks at work to provoke contortions in time are always in a state of flux and very difficult to pinpoint." Seeing how Hermione's face fell at his words, Dumbledore ended encouragingly, "It will take time, I'm afraid, Hermione, but it is not impossible."

Hermione swallowed thickly, hoping that he was right and her condition was not permanent. She tried to smile at him and said,

"I'm very grateful you're helping me, professor."

"Do not worry yourself. It is my pleasure. I will try my best to find a solution for your problem." A twinkle appeared in his eyes as he added, "To be honest, your case is quite exciting."

Hermione couldn't help but grin at the almost sheepish look on Dumbledore's face and commented dryly, "Well, at least one of us gets something out of this mess."

"Indeed," Dumbledore chuckled amusedly. Cocking an eyebrow, he inquired, "Time travel aside, how is it going on the Tom Riddle front? You seemed to be rather averse to being in his presence."

A long tired sigh tore from Hermione's lips. "Sir, that boy is even more horrible than I expected."

Hermione narrowed her eyes angrily as she spotted something akin to a grin traitorously tugging at Dumbledore's mouth.

"This is not funny," she told him exasperatedly.

"Forgive me, Hermione," might Dumbledore say, but the smile on his face said something else.

Hermione eyed him suspiciously, but then gave up and complained, "He drives me up the walls, he does. I swear, sooner or later I'm going to curse him."

The professor chuckled blithefully, "Maybe that would do him some good."

Hermione shook her head at Dumbledore's irresponsibility. "Sadly, I can't do that, now, can I? It would blow my cover. To say nothing of the time line I would completely disrupt."

The professor nodded, before he mused pensively, "Did you ever think that maybe you're here for a reason?" At her questioningly raised eyebrows he continued, "If Tom Riddle remains to be on the path that I have long suspected he is already on, I have an inkling as to what he might become in your time period."

Hermione scrunched up her nose in distaste. "And you probably would be right, too."

"Exactly my point," Dumbledore said smilingly. "Now that you're here – someone who knows first-hand how Tom's life will pan out – you might be able to change his path."

Hermione pursed her lips in contemplation as she pondered that line of thought. Indeed, what if Voldemort never came to be? Hermione tapped her index finger against her lips. After a stretch of silence, she decided,

"Yeah... No. I'm not gonna do that." Hermione sighed as the happy twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes dimmed a little. "Look, I think it's a good idea _in theory_. But, you see, Tom's a right attention whore and I'm not gonna give him any more of that than he already gets."

"You might change him for the better," Dumbledore pointed out.

"Yes, maybe," Hermione admitted. "Or I make him worse. Or something in between. Who knows? It's really not my responsibility. Riddle's his own person. And if he decides to fuck up his whole life, so be it."

She emphasised her statement with a casual shrug of her shoulders. Then she suggested, voice deadpan, "I could, of course, just go and kill him if you insist."

Dumbledore just cocked an unimpressed eyebrow. Hermione sighed loudly. "Don't worry, I wasn't serious. I'm not going to turn into an insane murderer. After all, I hear there's a limit of one per school and we already have Tom. But I'm also not gonna appeal to his better nature. I'm certainly not going to touch that issue."

Dumbledore still looked a bit disappointed, but in the end conceded, "Very well, Hermione. It _is_ probably better not to tempt fate and change time. Let's just concentrate on bringing you back into your time period."

Hermione nodded gratefully. "Thank you."

For a moment the professor scanned the harassed look on her face, concern appearing on his wizened face, then he asked kindly, "Can I interest you in a cup of tea?"

Hermione raised her gaze at him and smiled tiredly. "That would be really nice, sir."

Dumbledore returned her smile before he casually waved his wand. Immediately, a steaming pot of tea and two cups appeared out of nowhere.

"Earl Grey," Dumbledore informed her happily. "First Flush."

Hermione felt her tension uncoil bit by bit. She reached for her cup and held it out so Dumbledore could pour her some tea.

"Thank you," she said, appreciatively sipping her tea.

Still smiling amicably, Dumbledore contently savoured the tea.

"Now, Hermione," he said kindly. "You said you are Muggleborn. Tell me, how much do you know about traditional knitting patterns?"

~.~.~

Hermione felt a lot more relaxed as she finally dared to wander back to the Slytherin common room. Cautiously, she peered inside the room. There was no trace of any mice left, just a few Slytherins lounged here and there on the sofas. Silently, Hermione stole into the room and looked around. A relieved breath left her lungs as she couldn't spot Riddle or his lackeys anywhere.

Feeling a lot more confident now, she strolled further into the room and gravitated towards one of the comfy sofas. With a content sigh, Hermione plopped down, pulled a book from her bag and began to read. She could feel the confused eyes of the other Slytherins on her, but ignored it. Maybe Rosalie Black wasn't a book fan, but it would not bust her cover when she read one measly book, would it? Hermione for one was too tired to care.

Happily, she disappeared into a better world as she lost herself in her book. She was really glad Riddle and his snakes had left to do… well, whatever snakes did the whole day. _Basking on a sun warmed stone? _Hermione for one didn't care much and was quite content with the graveyard-like silence in the Slytherin common room.

Hermione must have been lost in her book for quite some time. Slowly, the common room had filled and people chatted irritatingly. It wasn't long and someone was so insolent as to sit right beside her on the couch, disturbing her reading flow. Annoyed, Hermione turned her head. She cringed as she found Tom Riddle sitting beside her. Irritated expression on his face, he had one arm elegantly draped over the backrest of the couch and looked at her disapprovingly. Hermione noticed how the whole common room surreptitiously watched their snake prince. It was no wonder that boy had such an inflated ego, Hermione reasoned. After all Riddle got treated like some sort of God. If they could, they would probably kiss the ground he walked on. _And they probably do_, Hermione suspiciously glanced at the other Slytherins. A disgusted shiver ran down her spine as an image of a Death Eater kissing the hem of Voldemort's robes popped up in her mind.

Without any preamble or fond words for his beloved girlfriend, Riddle said in his silky voice, "Don't you have something to say to me?"

Flabbergasted Hermione stared up at him. Riddle just raised an expectant eyebrow.

"Er… no?" Hermione replied confused.

She could see the anger taking hold of him as he heard her reply. Even his magic reacted and crackled irately in the air. Riddle leaned down to her and hissed into her ear,

"I think you should apologize, Rosalie. For your embarrassing performance earlier."

Oh, that was the problem. Hermione almost rolled her eyes at him. Yes, she was _so_ very sorry that she had messed up one of Lord Voldemort's dastardly schemes. _Surely_, she would lose all her sleep over it.

"I'm sorry for that, Tom. My bad," she said, admittedly rather flippantly, but it still was an apology.

The furious look on Riddle's face told her he thought differently. He leaned down to her and harshly whispered into her ear, "Stop being so bitchy. It's rather tiring."

Hermione tried to ignore the anger burning up in her, but if that git continued like this, she was going to rip his head off. Hermione was pretty sure Dumbledore would not blame her at all. Maybe she would even get a medal or something like that. For ridding the world of the evil git.

"I see," Hermione observed coldly. "If you excuse me, now."

With a snap, she closed her book. Then she got up from the sofa and stalked over to the stairs leading down to the dorms. She _certainly_ was not going to waste her precious time talking with an insane murderer. Nodding at that thought, Hermione descended the stairs, down to her dorm. The dorm was abandoned and as she just walked over to her bed. Hermione heard someone else entering after her. It wasn't like she needed three guesses to know who that someone was, so Hermione did not turn around to check but calmly sat on her bed.

Scowl still in place, Riddle stood by the door and glared at her. After the previous proceedings, Hermione was not at all in the mood to indulge his volatile temper, so she didn't react to him at all.

"I am rather displeased by your conduct lately," Riddle informed her glacially.

His stilted wording made Hermione's lips curl. She turned around to him and scanned the clearly angry Slytherin with morbid interest.

"You are 'displeased by my conduct'?" she echoed, dry humour winding its way into her voice.

She put her book down on her bedside table and suggested innocently, "Well then, maybe you should go and take your displeasure elsewhere. Obviously, I am not very conducive to your temper."

Riddle took a few steps further into the room. His movement made Hermione's fingers itch with the urge to pull her wand.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Rosalie?" the wizard snapped at her.

Hermione watched him for a moment, studying the rage storming behind his otherwise composed expression. Then she simply shrugged. Riddle's jaw was clenched as if fighting for composure.

"You really don't want to make me angry," he pressed out through gritted teeth.

He was probably right, Hermione reasoned calmly as she felt his angry magic tugging at her. Riddle, seeing the passive look on her face, narrowed his eyes.

"I won't accept your ridiculous behaviour," the wizard hissed caustically. "You owe me a lot more respect than you show lately."

Hermione couldn't help but arch her eyebrows. "I owe you respect?"

"You know who I am," Riddle told her, glaring at her. "I am a direct descendant of Slytherin himself. _All_ of you owe me respect."

Hermione considered him pensively. This was new information. She really hadn't expected Riddle to tell anyone about his parentage. Not after the so-called Heir of Slytherin had killed Myrtle.

"Of course you're right," Hermione said, banning all traces of sarcasm from her tone. "After all, nothing commands more respect than pure blood. I should know." She threw Riddle a fake smile. "_Toujours pur_. The motto of my family."

As if needing to defend himself, Riddle growled menacingly. "My blood is the purest in this whole school. Both sides of my family have not been besmirched by Muggle blood in centuries."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at that blatant lie and commented dryly, "Is that right?"

Riddle balled his hands into fists and glowered at her darkly. "You know it is."

Hermione rubbed the back of her neck and threw Riddle a sheepish look. Nothing but innocence glinted in her eyes as she said,

"Of course, I know that. Who would _ever_ doubt that you're a Pureblood, Tom? After all, it's so obvious that _both_ your parents were Purebloods. I mean, how else would you be such an _incredibly_ powerful wizard."

Riddle seemed mollified by her assurances, although a tiny residue of anger continued to smoulder in his eyes. Hermione tried, but she somehow couldn't stop there. Giggling softly, she continued,

"Imagine that, Tom Riddle _not_ a Pureblood. Why, even the notion is ridiculous." She shook her head, smiling sweetly at Riddle. "A Mudblood or even a _Halfblood_ would never be able to do the things you can do, Tom. Someone with impure blood could never have such command over magic."

She paused there, blinking up at Riddle with nothing but honesty mirrored on her face. Then she said guilelessly,

"Halfbloods… They're hardly better than Mudbloods. Wouldn't you agree, Tom?"

Hermione knew she really shouldn't goad him, but she couldn't help it. She got a perverse sense of pleasure out of watching the emotions flitter over Riddle's face. He somehow managed to plaster a stony mask on his face, but there were cracks. His left eye, for example, twitched a little and a small, almost imperceptible, crinkle appeared between his eyebrows. Hermione tried to not let her innocent smile morph into a nasty smirk.

"Yes. That is very much true," Riddle replied, voice steady and controlled.

If Hermione hadn't known what to pay attention to, she would have missed that his tone was a bit forced, the words pressed out, bitter even. Her smile widened a little bit.

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}


	7. Chapter Seven: Mortal Kombat

Disclaimer in chapter one

**A/N: Finally the next chapter. I was a bit distracted, because I was writing for another story. I'm not quite sure how that is coming along yet. Ah well, at least here's a new chapter for bodyswitch. I hope you like it :)**

**Also lots of thanks to my reviewers. It's really wonderful getting feedback, hearing what you think. I love you guys!**

**HereToRead84, diana prz, Vestal Harlot, Guest, Hyuuga Cherry, Kat-Knife, cathy loves heath, Jen103, MomentoMori2, Thamaleia, karlaispaja, Ceralyn, Cassie-D1, darkknightwriter, diuu, Bella, serpentslions, haitt, Tiara2010, InsaneTendencies, LeLuvTrianglePenguinGiraffe'nI, AvoidedIsland, alannalove1990, JessPanda, Schnuersenkel, marana1, Voorpret, marana1, Winterblumefan, FemmeFerret, TwilightGirl100195, YoursAnnie, Dodge1989, Obey the Muse, naughty, Strawberryluv, thechit, kaylabrn, dobby, Anon, LeahHeartsSirius, P.N Tran, Anya Evermore, EriEka127, patricia pc, nikyta, summerful21**

{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}

**Chapter Seven: Mortal Kombat**

Potions, Hermione found out, was by far her least favourite class of the past. And that was saying something. Why was it so terrible? Because she had to share a workstation with the Dark Lord, of all things. Annoyance was wrapped tightly around her as Hermione peered at Riddle. Currently, he was cutting the foxglove for their potion. It was horrible. Why did she have to work with _him_. Hermione suspected that Rosalie just didn't want to do any work and let Riddle handle everything. Oh, she really started to dislike the girl.

Temper flaring, Hermione cut the fungi into small strips. After a few days of classes in Rosalie's body, Hermione was already completely stressed out. The girl barely scraped by, her grades were a nightmare and the worst part was that Hermione had to play along. If she suddenly was good at her classes, people would suspect that something was off. Hermione knew she couldn't risk that, but the situation was still unbearable. Even now she was forced to _deliberately_ spoil her own potion. Everything screamed at her to stop as, with shaky fingers, Hermione took the fungi and added them to the cauldron. Feeling sickened by herself, she reached for the ladle to stir the potion.

"Merlin! Rosalie, how can you be so stupid?" Riddle sneered meanly and gestured at the potion. "Did you even try to read the instructions?"

Hermione startled before she peered at Riddle's angry face. Just looking at him made her frustration boil up to new propotions. Vile glint in his eyes, the Slytherin scanned her with an air of condescension.

"I'm sorry, Tom," Hermione admitted, fighting for calm. "I seem to have used the wrong species of amanita." She gestured to the cut mushrooms. "These are death caps, but we needed destroying angels, didn't we? It's hard to discern them when they are so young. And I re-"

"I don't need your excuses," Riddle cut over her harshly. "It's your fault this potion's ruined now."

Hermione felt her anger giving a violent twitch as she looked at the disdainful look on Riddle's face. Deliberate or not, this still was a minor mistake. There certainly was no reason to snub at her like that. Stewing in her anger, Hermione couldn't quite hold her temper back.

"I said I was sorry," she pressed out through gritted teeth. "It was my mistake. But the potion is hardly ruined. We'll just add a little more doxy eggs. It'll neutralise the toxin and tha-"

"We don't do anything," Riddle again interrupted her, his voice cold as ice. "_I_ will take over from here."

Hermione was outraged as he then rudely pushed her away from the cauldron.

"You can stand there and look pretty," he told her derisively. Then he threw her a dirty glance and added, "Though with how unsightly you've become, you'll fail that, too." An evil smile curled his lips. "You should be thanking me on bended knees that I spend time with you. If you continue like this, I'll leave you."

Hermione stared at Riddle's arrogant face and felt the last reast of her temper slip away. Well, to be honest, it had only been a matter of time. All considered, she wasn't even a good actress. The only reason Riddle hadn't yet sussed her out was that her story was too farfetched.

Sometimes words fail, Hermione had to admit. So she didn't reply anything to Riddle's arrogant rant. Instead she just kicked him in the shin. Hard. Riddle gasped in a mixture of pain and disbelief as he was hit in the leg.

"What the _fuck_?!"

Paying his crouched figure no more attention, Hermione turned to the working place and coolly started to count the required dozen doxy eggs. She just plopped the fifth egg into the bowl as she felt a gruff hand on her shoulder.

Not that she was surprised.

Riddle angrily turned her around so she had to face him. After this whole grabbing, wrenching and kicking business Hermione started to wonder whether Slughorn endorsed violence in his classroom or had just fallen asleep. It didn't matter anyway, because right now Hermione was confronted with a pair of very angry blue eyes.

"What did you do that for?" Riddle hissed at her furiously.

Hermione raised her eyebrows in innocence. "Whatever do you mean?"

She gritted her teeth as Riddle's hand on her shoulder tightened its grip painfully. What a nasty person. _And abusive too?!_ she thought outraged, conveniently ignoring the fact that she had just now kicked him.

"You _kicked_ me!" Riddle reminded her in a strained voice, obviously having trouble not to yell in her face.

The scandal on his face made Hermione have to hold in laughter. Instead she deadpanned in a calm voice,

"Well, you can hardly blame me. You scared me with all your threats."

Hermione almost rolled her eyes as Riddle looked at her with the air of the wrongly accused. Finally he caught himself and breathed out, his voice barely controlled,

"I did _not_ threaten you."

She couldn't help it as the corners of her mouth twitched slightly. What a hypocrite. Sure he really hadn't threatened her _right now_. But to Hermione his mere presence was threat enough. At least this whole thing had calmed her incensed temper down. _Time to act_, she decided and charmed an anxious expression on her face.

"Oh but, _Tom_," Hermione whined obnoxiously. "You said you would _leave_ me. You _know_ I can't express myself so well with words. I did the only thing I could think of."

Riddle just stared at her, seemingly lost for words. Hermione was surprised herself as she even managed to force a few tears into her eyes. She took a step towards him, looked at him through teary eyes and grabbed his hand.

"You are not going to leave me, are you?" she asked, false trepidation in her voice.

After this, Hermione would be surprised if he didn't dump her.

~.~.~

Sadly, after that stunt during potions Riddle did not immediately break up with her, but Hermione still felt very satisfied with herself after the class. Not even the disappointed looks her professor threw her way during charms could pull her down. She passed the time by remembering that look of helpless outrage on Riddle's face as she kicked him. There still was a fat smile on her face as she walked into the Great Hall for lunch.

"What's got you into such a good mood?" Sarah asked her as Hermione sat down beside her.

Still grinning like an idiot, Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "It just is a nice day."

Sarah simply scrunched up her nose at Hermione's seemingly unsolicited happiness. Betty on the other hand just nodded amicably along. Hermione cheerfully loaded her plate with pork chops and potatoes and risked a glance at Riddle. The Slytherin sat a bit away from Hermione. He didn't look at her, but she couldn't help but giggle as she saw him. Thunderous scowl on his face, he did not look very relaxed, now, did he? Maybe potions wasn't her least favourite class after all.

Hermione still dug into her meal as the owls burst into the Great Hall, delivering the mail. She watched in confusion as a rather impressive looking screech owl headed directly for her. The bird gracefully touched down on the table, deftly avoiding Hermione's cup of pumpkin juice. It fixed her with a gaze from its spooky yellow eyes and cawed once as if in greeting. Then it raised its claw, offering Hermione the small roll of paper it was carrying. Not seeing any way out of this she reached for the roll and untangled it from the bird's leg. Instantly, the owl took off again, its large wings quickly propelling it high up in the air. Meanwhile, Hermione stared at the roll of paper in her hand. There was unmistakably the crest of the house of Black visible on the red seal.

"Oh boy," Betty said wryly as she eyed the letter in Hermione's hand. "Good luck with that."

Hermione didn't know what that meant, but the look of sympathy on Betty's face was unsettling. Even Sarah scanned the letter with something akin to pity on her doll-like face. Rather reluctantly, Hermione broke the seal and unrolled the letter.

_Dear Daughter,_

_Horace Slughorn has brought to my attention that you are having trouble competing with your peers. With utmost obtrusiveness that man has set forth his concerns for your classwork and the upcoming NEWT examination. Your failure to excel at your educational training has become a tedious matter and I do not appreciate your tendency to redirect your professors' complaints to your father and me. I have told you on numerous occasions that I do not care for such disturbances. To advertise your shortcomings in such a public way is nothing less than shameful. I expect you to at least have the decency to keep your inadequacy under wraps and not accost your family with such trifling matters._

_Is it not enough that I had to pester Aunt Lycoris on your account? You are very lucky she is such a well-connected woman. How fortunate that she should know most of this year's NEWT examiners from her Snidget-hunting club. I warn you again, though, that Hesper Winogrand is a very stubborn woman. There is no way to convince her. So, I do hope for your sake that you are able to pass at least one NEWT on your own. Herbology is a rather simple subject anyway and I will not stand for any failure on your part._

_On a different note, your father and I decided to spend the upcoming Christmas holidays in our estate in Provence. Therefore, your visit during the holidays would be inconvenient and I would ask you to spend the time elsewhere._

_Your mother_

_Melania Black_

Pressing her lips into a thin line, Hermione folded the letter and put it in her pocket. She didn't quite know what to think about this. An angry and rather persistent voice in her head cried in outrage, _Cheating!_ Hermione could not say she was surprised by this development. _Of course_, Rosalie would use foul play to pass her NEWTs. Feeling thoroughly disgusted, Hermione grabbed her fork and knife and started to furiously cut her pork chops into tiny pieces.

"That good, hm?" Betty commented dryly as she observed Hermione's angry slicing.

Hermione just growled in response and continued to shred her meal. '_Keep your inadequacy under wraps,' _Melania Black's words spun through her head, making Hermione sigh. The words weren't directed at her and yet... a tiny bit of pity weaved through Hermione's anger. There was not much about Rosalie's life she could identify with and even less that she liked, but whatever she might think of Rosalie the letter from her mother made Hermione truly pity the girl. Maybe Rosalie wasn't the sharpest knife in the box, but it didn't justify such vitriol from her own mother.

Sarah, not caring about Hermione's conflicting emotions, asked calmly, "So, what news from the home front?"

Hermione peered at the girl and took a sad guess, "The usual."

Betty scrunched up her face and eyed Hermione pityingly. "'s a shame."

Sarah was seemingly not that much concerned about Hermione's home life and continued casually, "Are you planning to go home for the Christmas holidays?"

"Nah," Hermione replied. "Apparently the family's going to Provence. So, I guess I'm stuck here."

There was a strangely out of place scowl on Sarah's face as she heard the answer. Hermione's confusion even grew as Betty started to giggle.

"What?"

Betty shook her head and teased, "You know what."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "No, I don't actually."

Sarah rolled her eyes in exasperation and said, sounding quite irritated, "Don't play coy. For weeks you've been telling us how much you wanted to stay at Hogwarts this year."

It did not explain anything to Hermione. "Did I?"

"Of course you did," Betty affirmed, still grinning widely. "After all, Tom never goes home for the winter holidays either. You can spend a very romantic Christmas with him. Aw, Rosalie, your plans always work out for you, don't they?"

Hermione couldn't help it, she sighed loudly. At Betty's confused look, she quickly tried to remedy, banning all sarcasm strictly from her tone,

"Yes, I'm such a lucky girl, aren't I?"

~.~.~

That letter from Rosalie's mother continued to spook around Hermione's head. Sulking a bit, she had chosen to wander to her personal safe haven, the library. Being Rosalie Black, it seemed Hermione didn't even have to open one book to pass her NEWTs. Once again indignation and fury seethed in the pit of Hermione's stomach. This whole time travel-body swap occurrence was getting worse every day. She really hoped Dumbledore would be able to send her back into her time period soon. She couldn't waste any more time. Harry and Ron needed her. It was Hermione's task to destroy the Horcrux in Nagini. This was essential to their plan. They needed to get rid of all Horcruxes, so Harry could fulfil the prophecy and kill Voldemort. What if they failed, because she was stuck in the past? Hermione gritted her teeth, trying to ignore the fear clenching around her chest. She had to trust in Dumbledore. He would get her back.

Breathing in deeply, Hermione bent over her Arithmancy essay for professor Arterbury. As she worked on finding the derivatives to the runic functions, her upset mind calmed down a bit. For some time Hermione fiddled around with the runes. Working on the differentiation was quite relaxing.

It was half an hour later that Hermione stared down at her parchment, scribbled over with runes and numbers. Such a nice work. Sadly, she could never hand this in, Hermione realized with a twinge of sadness. Professor Arterbury would probably have a heart attack if Rosalie Black suddenly handed in her homework. Hermione worried her lip as she looked down at her parchment. The runic functions and their derivatives were quite beautiful. Her heart bled as she reluctantly raised her wand and waved it over the parchment. With tears in her eyes, Hermione watched as the ink slowly faded from the parchment until there was no trace left of the runes and numbers. It made her feel slightly sick. Listlessly, Hermione held her quill in numb fingers. Now what? Should she try and mutilate the runic functions until they were barely recognizable, devoid of any logic, and give that mess to Arterbury? Or should she just completely ignore the Arithmancy professor's homework?

Hermione still struggled with that horrible decision as someone rudely pulled her parchment away from her. She looked up, frown in place, and was not at all surprised to see Riddle standing beside her chair. He seemed to be in a better mood since potions. At least, he wasn't throwing her any death glares, but scanned her through cold, indifferent eyes.

"Rosalie, what are you trying to do here?" the Slytherin inquired as he sneered down at her parchment with the runic problems.

Hermione wrinkled her nose and her hand tightened around her quill. "My homework," she hissed through gritted teeth.

To her displeasure, Riddle elegantly sank down in the seat beside her. Draping one arm over the backrest of Hermione's chair, he drawled at her,

"Don't you think that is a waste of time?"

Deep frown in place, Hermione turned her head at him. He scanned her with dark amusement shining in his eyes. Once again she was infuriated with how good he looked. A strand of his dark hair fell casually into his eyes and a small smirk curled up his mouth. He was handsome all right. Hermione wished she could curse that smirk off his face.

"So you think homework is a waste of time?" she snapped at him.

"No, silly," he chuckled.

Riddle leaned towards her and ran his fingers gently over her cheek. Hermione shuddered as he touched her. There was a pleasant tingle all over her body. The fact that he smelled so good wasn't helping the matter either. Hermione felt disgusted by her body's reactions ...maybe she could blame that on Rosalie, too.

"I just meant that _you_ doing homework is a waste of time," Riddle purred at her in his deep voice.

Immediately, Hermione's eyes narrowed into slits. Temporarily, she forgot that he was actually insulting Rosalie Black and not herself.

"Are you insinuating that I am stupid?" she inquired bitingly.

Riddle arched an eyebrow in mock-surprise. Then he smiled at her charmingly and said, "Merlin, no. I just thought your time could be better spent elsewhere..." He threw her suggestive look. "I'm free right now. Can't you think of anything we could do together?"

Hermione was so unbalanced by his advances, she couldn't reply anything. Riddle smirked down at her, looking a bit smug in face of her speechlessness. He bent down and placed a light kiss on her cheek. Hermione truly hated herself as she shuddered in pleasure at his touch. She even closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of his soft lips on her skin. As he released her again, she was convinced that he had thrown a temporary confusion charm on her. That fluttery feeling in her stomach couldn't be explained otherwise. She shook her head.

"I really need to work on my essay," Hermione decided curtly, hoping to block any further flirtatious approaches. "I don't have time right now. Sorry."

Immediately, a look of irritation crossed Riddle's face. Obviously, he was rather displeased with her continued rejection. He leaned away from her again, nasty expression on his face as he glared at her. Then Riddle raised a hand, reached out for Hermione and prodded her hair with his index finger. Wrinkling his nose in distaste, he asked,

"What is that supposed to be?"

Hermione frowned and reached for her hair. It was still up in that messy bun so it wouldn't fall into her face while she worked on her essay. She looked up at Riddle questioningly.

"Why? What's wrong?"

He glared at her impatiently. "Well, you look like an idiot with that bird's nest on your head." Then he ordered sharply, "Change that."

Hermione stared at him, aghast. Riddle was unmoved by her reaction and got up from his seat. He threw her another dismissive look.

"I don't want you to look like an ugly troll. After all, you are supposed to be _my_ girlfriend."

Without waiting for any reply, Riddle turned around and walked away. Hermione watched his retreating back and was unable to hold her fury in. She reached for the nearest object, a thick Arithmancy tome, and before she could stop herself threw it at Riddle. He yelped satisfyingly as the book hit him in the back. Riddle turned around, his fury displayed all over his face, and stomped back to her. Hermione fought to hold in her grin.

"Did you just throw a _book_ at me?" Riddle spat at her, dangerous edge in his voice.

"Yes," replied Hermione coolly.

She could see how he balled his hands into fists as he fumed down at her. Hermione pasted an innocent expression on her face and flirted,

"You are always so nice to me, Tom. Helping me out with my appearance. I am _so_ grateful." She fluttered her eyelashes at him. "I thought I need to repay you."

"Hence you throw things at me?" he blustered at her enraged.

Hermione nodded and said, sounding quite naïve, "Well, you like books so much, don't you?" Suppressing a mad laugh, Hermione stared up at him with wide eyes. Glancing at the Arithmancy book in his hand she added, "That book wasn't much use to me, see. So I thought you might want to have it."

He gritted his teeth, still glaring at her as he repeated, "So you threw it at me?"

Hermione smiled at him sweetly and, as she was feeling a bit reckless, even dared to run a hand over his forearm. "It's the least I could do."

It was very hard to hold in her laughter as she looked up at Riddle. Hermione was immensely glad that since that potions class she had finally found an outlet for her pent up anger.

Shortly, there was suspicion burning up in Riddle's blue eyes as they wandered over her. But then he shook his head and seemed to dismiss his thought. Without saying anymore he turned around and stalked away. Still with the Arithmancy book tugged under his arm, Hermione noted amusedly.

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